Many Moons
by Moira
Summary: Ch. 10 The Open Door! New chapter and new mysteries are starting to rear their drooling heads. In this bit Reno and Cloud get to appreciate hangovers, hobos, and Tifa Lockheart's boobs, er, boots. Well, one gets one and the other gets the other anyway...
1. From Turks to Gravediggers Reno

Many Moons  
by Moira  
  
  
Prologue  
From Turks to Gravediggers (Reno)  
  
  
  
"Reno..."  
"Reno"  
"RENO!"  
  
Shaking himself awake with a start, Reno was for a brief moment unsure of where he was. The dull electric glow of the ceiling light cast a sickly illumination around the sparse office, highlighting boxes that had never been opened. The desk he had his booted feet propped on was similarly bare, and the filing cabinets were open and empty. He shifted the sunglasses from over his eyes, and slid them up to rest on the shock of red bangs that hung rakishly in his face. Pushing them off his forehead completely he rubbed at the unnaturally bright eyes that glowed with Mako luminescence.   
  
"God I hate this shit..."   
  
An office. A goddamned office job. He didn't know whether to laugh or smack Reeve upside the head and ask him what the hell he had been thinking. What had he been thinking? A Turk wasn't your average employee. Putting one in an office was like inviting a rabid dog to sleep in your room. He wasn't ready to admit that since the fall of Shinra there really hadn't been any call for having an elite group of assassins in one's employment, but he, Reno, sitting in his own personal office at the beck and call of someone who pretended to be a magical cat? He supposed things could be worse. One day they might even expect him to wear something more...   
  
He plucked at the rumpled blue suit that had never seen a trip to the cleaners more than once a month. It was missing the two uppermost buttons and smelled strongly of alcohol. Fishing around in the breast pocket produced a similarly wrinkled pack of smokes, which he lit with a level 1 Fire casting. One of the nearby boxes also caught fire and he watched it blaze merrily. At least Reeve hadn't managed to install a fire detector in every office yet. He stared as the small fire consumed the tape along the edges, melting the plastic into a misshapen burnt knot. The fire moved eagerly down the edges of the box, leaving scorched tracks in its wake. Even when the flames had attempted to jump to the next box he found it hard to move. He simply watched with something akin to apathy. It was hard to get worked up about anything of late.  
  
If you don't get your act together Reno, you're going to have to find another occupation.   
  
"I did Tseng. And then you died and the planet blew up. Well, almost blew up. And here I am sitting in a room that's supposed to be my new occupation. The Turks just aren't right without you to guide us."  
  
The emptiness of the room served well enough for an answer that he knew would never come. Not from Tseng anyway. Reeve was a nice enough guy. He had a lot to do since the founding of Neo-Shinra, with him as the acting President. A lot of the world needed rebuilding since meteor all but crashed. He often wondered whether this was the outcome Cloud and his group had expected when they saved the planet. The world may have survived, but civilization as Midgar had known it, was on it's deathbed. And he, Rude, Elena, and Reeve had been the only one's left to bury the corpse.  
  



	2. Unwanted Company

Many Moons

Many Moons

by [Moira][1]

Chapter 1

**Unwanted Company**

  
  


Massaging out the kinks in his neck he crossed the room in three strides, scattering the ashes of his little arson job in the process. Gray flecks of cinders kicked up into the air like filthy snow as the whoosh of air from the closing door propelled them airborne. When they had settled the inside of Reno's office looked just like the outside of Midgar. 

The PHS in Reno's pocket suddenly started ringing. 

"Yo." He drawled. 

"Reeve here. Reno, have Elena and Rude returned yet?" 

Reno shifted the cigarette to the other side of his mouth. "Not since I woke up." 

There was a definite pause on the other line. When Reeve spoke into the receiver again it sounded deliberately patient. Reno just chuckled. 

"Well, I need that report on the Junon base ASAP. Could you meet them halfway?" 

"Where? At Fort Condor, or maybe Cosmo Canyon?" 

"No. Ideally they could bring it on a straight path here, but I need to send them off on another errand that will take them north to Glacier." 

"Reeve… The Turks are a team. You can't just keep splitting us up like this. We work best together. What the hell are you trying to do?!" 

"I'm sorry Reno, it can't be helped. All three of you are indispensable, but you're also the most experienced and capable employees we have left of ShinRa. I need people I can trust." 

"...." 

"Reno?" 

"Yeah, I'm here." 

"First I need you to pick up the package from Elena and Rude in...I guess, Costa del Sol, and then I want you to go to Nibelheim." 

"What? Nibelheim? What the hell do you want from that creepy husk of a town?" 

Even Reno wasn't above the atmosphere of gloom and wrongness that personified Cloud Strife's former home. Before Meteor had thrown chaos into new levels, Sephiroth had razed the town to ashes in his madness, and whatever Hojo and Gast has conducted there traces of it still lingered. He had no desire to set foot back into what he considered the origin of weirdness. After all Cloud had come from there hadn't he? 

Silently Reno chanted under his breath, "Not the mansion. Not the mansion…" 

"I need you to get some files Hojo left in the laboratory. In the mansion…" 

"Figures," he grumbled irritably, grinding the end of his cigarette into pulp. 

"What was that?" 

"Nuthin', but you don't expect me to go in there without backup do you? What's the point of splitting up the Turks if…" 

Reeve cut him off. "I don't expect you to go anywhere without the proper backup. I actually have someone in mind to send with you." 

Reno spit out the remains of the cigarette in disgust. Here it comes he thought. 

"Cloud let me know that he's heading in that general direction. I'll ask him to accompany you." 

"Spike?!" He said incredulously. This was worse than he thought. "You're sending me with psycho chocobo boy?!" Anyone but Cloud he thought desperately. Even Tifa. Despite the fact that she had personally promised to break his bones into so much powder and then light what remained on fire for the Sector Seven incident, he could still think of several reasons why he would rather travel with her. Two big ones actually. 

"I know you're not keen on working with him Reno, but Cloud's a friend, and…" 

"And nobody else was stupid enough to take you up on the job?" He finished for him. 

"Well actually I was going to say he was the only one available…" Reeve ended lamely. 

"Same difference." 

"Well, all the same, will you do it Reno?" 

"Yeah whatever." And he clicked off the PHS to show how little he liked the idea. 

* * * * 

The next morning brought the faint remains of a hangover, and Cloud Strife, ex-SOLDIER, current occupation in question now that world had been saved. Neither were wanted. 

"You're early," Reno grunted. He sat tilted back in the chair of his 'office' still shaking off sleep, not bothering to stand up in acknowledgement of the other man. 

"And you haven't changed a bit," Cloud remarked, leaning casually against the doorframe. 

Reno yawned and gave his guest a careful assessment behind shaded eyes. Cloud Strife had never been tall. At 5'6" he was still a good 6 inches shorter than Reno, but if one added the additional 7 inches of hair, then one might also say they were even. And if saving the world had been Strife's last physical job, his physique showed no signs of change. If anything the leanness that made him seem slight and boyish had been shed for a tougher skin. He was tanner than when Reno had seen him last, and there was long white scar that ran from his elbow to disappear beneath a gloved hand. The Mako eyes regarded him solemnly. 

"What?" 

"Just wanted to see how tough this babysitting job is gonna be." 

A blond eyebrow shot up. If anyone got stuck with the raw deal here it was me," Cloud said. "Reeve asked me to go with you to see that you didn't fuck up or get fucked up in turn. I don't have the time for your bullshit, but I do have to pass through Nibelheim. If you hurry your ass up maybe you'll catch up." With that he turned away and started down the corridor. 

"$%#&! you Strife!" Reno shouted at the retreating back. "I don't need this, especially from a punk like you! You think saving the world means everyone has to bow down at your feet?" 

Cloud reappeared in the doorway, the Ultima Weapon unsheathed, but it was a sad kind of amusement glowing blue in his eyes. He studied the weapon for a long time, admiring the sheen of its edge and the familiar grip. Without looking up he said, 

"I never asked for it Reno. It just sorts came with taking down Sephiroth. If you want this," he held up the weapon, "You're welcome to it, and everything that goes with it." 

Reno said nothing in way of reply, but he lit up another cigarette and glared. 

Cloud's somber expression abruptly changed into a feral grin. "I don't expect you to understand—" 

"Or care," Reno added. 

"—but from what Reeve has told me, whatever he wants from Nibelheim also has something to do with the both of us." 

That gave him pause. The green eyes narrowed suspiciously. He blew smoke out of his nose in twin jets of vapor that rose and collected above the halo of red hair like a gathering storm of clouds. 

"Reeve hadn't mentioned to me what it was exactly that he wanted from the mansion yet." 

Cloud held up a thin, creamy packet, which had by the looks of it, already been opened. He tossed it unceremoniously on Reno's lap and resheathed the sword. 

Transferring the cigarette from the left hand to mouth Reno thumbed the seal open and randomly pulled out a piece of typed paper. He read the heading, "Human Subjects; Mako Infusion Study", and gave an involuntary shudder. Glancing up at Cloud he saw the other man press his lips together in a thin line of what could only be revulsion. He himself had undergone what all candidates for SOLDIER had too, namely the Mako infusion process that Professor Gast has perfected 30 years earlier. It wasn't by any accounts a pleasant experience, and only the soundest in body and mind made it through unscathed. If one could call it that. He had doubts on the mental affects personally. The interesting thing was, as his memory reminded him with a sudden burp of information, was that Cloud Strife had failed the initial stages of the process and had never made it into SOLDIER. 

He gave a half smirk that seemed to puzzle Strife, but then his memory regurgitated another piece of information that wiped it from his face. Strife and another guy…an actual SOLDIER, Zack? Zax?, had been captured by ShinRa after their flight from the massacre at Nibelheim and had been returned there only to be experimented on by Hojo. From the sketchy information he'd been able to drag from Tseng, it had involved a new infusion process that had transformed Cloud into the warrior he was now. No wonder the vibes he was getting from the blond were bordering on anxiety. And he'd never admit it himself, but the Mako process wasn't something he'd rather dwell on too long, and in any great detail. 

Cloud shifted impatiently in the doorway, and gave Reno a pointed look that said "Hurry the &*$@ up." 

Ignoring him easily, Reno scanned down the page, through the scientific babble that threatened to numb his brain worse than a shot of Midgar's specialty, and paused when he reached a list of names at the bottom. 

The heading there read: 

UNDER STRICT OBSERVATION. SUBJECTS ARE UNAWARE AND STILL UNDERGOING TREATMENTS AS OF MIDGAR YEAR 77. 

It was currently Midgar year 79 

**KYLE BRAUCLAN DANAHEY**

**TRAVIS FOREMAN**

**JANET RALMALESE**

**SAMPRIS DAVEK**

The list continued on. Some of the names sounded vaguely familiar. Others were complete strangers. And one was enough to make him choke on the smoke he suddenly couldn't exhale. 

**RENO L. DELANEY**

_What the fuck…_

"You ready to go yet?" Cloud prompted. 

"It wasn't that you were the only one available was it?" 

Cloud shook his head. "Actually it was just coincidence that I was in the area. I promised Cid I'd see what I could do about getting Neo ShinRa to consider another space program. But I guess you could also say, I am the only one around to do it." 

Reno carelessly shoved the papers back into the envelope. He put out the cigarette on the corner of his new desk and stood up. There was an uneasy quality to his posture, but the eyes were hard as agates. 

"Alright. Let's get out of here then."

   [1]: mailto:bane_sidhe@hotmail.com



	3. Snakes Don't Taste Like Chicken

The plains surrounding Midgar spread like an expanse of yellow and green sea, the tops of high grass shuddering in the breeze

Many Moons; Chapter 2

Snakes Don't Taste Like Chicken

By [Moira][1]

The plains surrounding Midgar spread like an expanse of yellow and green sea, the tops of high grass shuddering in the breeze. New plants, new life. All of it demonstrating the planet's tenacity for growth and rebirth. When Meteor had given the industrial region of Midgar a new face job the fires from the impact had swept over the city and billowed forth in a tidal wave of destruction that capped the surrounding hills and scorched the earth. Even Holy couldn't stop that. But what had sprouted back after that hellish cleansing was by all appearances beautiful. If of course, one paid no attention to the mechanical devil bikes that sent clouds of dirt up at every wheelie, and revved their engines in challenge at nothing in particular. Not that you could do anything about the monsters that came naturally with the land. They were as necessary as the trees and lakes, and probably had more right to be on the planet than any human being. Or Cetra. One could never forget the Cetra.

Still within the boundaries that served to at least define the area where Midgar had once dominated, Reno assessed the contents of his pockets to reassure himself he had everything he needed for the trip. A couple hundred gil should be enough. The nightstick dangled from his belt clasp, the 10,000volts safely turned off.His Desert Eagle was tucked concealingly in a holster under his left armpit, and the two combat knives he favored were hidden respectively on different parts of his anatomy. He hadn't bothered to bring more than a change of clothes, extra ammo, and feed for his chocobo, Sylth, but Strife had still seemed surprised that he was ready and packed before they reached the stables. What the hell did he expect? Turks didn't survive by being sloppy. At least, not on missions.

Next to him, and checking his own gear, Cloud Strife picked through the pouch at his waist and a small pack that he had brought with him when he had arrived in Midgar. Besides the Ultima Weapon he didn't seem to have any other means of defense, but light caught on a bangle around his arm briefly, sending purple and green rainbows to dance across green grass. He raked a gloved hand through his hair impatiently as Pheros, his gold chocobo, finished eating. It seemed odd to him that he was the one holding them up now. He hadn't expected the careless and irresponsible seeming Turk to be even slightly prepared for the journey, especially after the attitude he was packing. And as they didn't have the option of taking the chopper, because Rude and Elena currently had it for their own errands, they were going by chocobo. That meant giving Phero and Sylth, Reno's black, time to breakfast a bit.

Holding the pouch of Millet greens under Sylth's eager beak with one hand Reno fingered the Tough Ring he had suspended on a leather thong around his neck thoughtfully with the other.He had had time to browse a little more thoroughly through the paperwork Reeve had supplied them with while Cloud had readied his gear. Most of it consisted of reports pertaining to some of Hojo's experiments with Gast's infusion technique. While it was all in scientific language, Reno couldn't help but feel sick as he read about some of the procedures. The sheer brilliance of some of the experimentation was obvious, even to him, but the lack of….humanity? He wasn't sure that was the best word for it because as a Turk the first thing you signed over to your employers was your so-called humanity. He was a killer, an assassin by trade and inclination. He murdered people for a living for holy's sake, but this…this was just sick. Glancing at Cloud from over the top of his shades he felt a momentary pang of sympathy. If his experience had been anything like this then Reno could certainly understand the jerkiness of his movements and the haunted look that flashed occasionally across those mako blue eyes. Shame that he was such a dick though. 

Dropping the ring back into place Reno turned to Sylth and ruffled the feathers under her chin. She cooed at him lovingly and tried to bite off his index finger. Wise to this tactic he whisked his hand away quickly and decided to stare at Cloud until the blond met his gaze. It took barely moments before the blue eyes left what they were looking at and glared back.

"What?" Cloud asked irritably.

"Chill Strife. I just wanted to see if you were ready yet."

Cloud flushed slightly and his mouth drew into a taunt line of discomfort. He really didn't need this.Why had he agreed to go with him? Sure Reeve was a friend, and by extension Cait Sith, but _really_. To willingly put yourself in close quarter situations with a former enemy was idiocy, and Reno already embodied so many bad traits even without taking in the whole I-will-kill-you past. Not the brightest of decisions Strife, he chided himself.And not that I've ever been complimented on my brainpower, he added with a self-mocking smile. It was just this Niebleheim thing. It still made his gut clench painfully and breakfast had to be wrestled back to its original place of digestion. Tifa had suggested returning there once or twice to bury the past. It still haunted them both, but he wasn't sure he was ready to face that particular ghost. Other dead souls still were too fresh in his mind. Sephiroth was…no, he was gone. He had to remember that, had to believe it. Sephiroth _had_ been a cancer in his soul. The trials he and the others had suffered to stave off that sickness had marked each of them differently, but unfailingly. Even the detached Vincent showed signs of stress these days in the aftermath. He himself had gone from confusion to depression to a semblance of normality with Tifa. Well, as normal as things ever got. He had been ancy of late, and restless. It was strange, but even as he felt the building dread in his system, part of him welcomed it. Was horror the only thing normal for him? He shuddered inwardly at the thought. Just another section to add to his endless parade of fucked up issues. It was all just so disorienting.And now Nibelheim, the experiments that he was just starting to forget, and Zax… 

"Oh Zax…I'm sorry," he said softly, and not for the first time.

Reno raised an eyebrow. "Is that a yes or a, no, I'm still checking that my hair gel is all packed?"

Cloud just glared and thrust the remainder of Pheros' breakfast at the bird's beak. The chocobo warked in agitation at the tightly gripped pile of greens that had suddenly been shoved in its face. It gave an indignant snort, and while Cloud still had his head turned to trade hostile looks with Reno, took a bite of the feed, glove and all. Cloud yelped in surprise and Reno spoiled the seriousness of the atmosphere by laughing loudly. 

"Oh man are we gonna suffer on this trip," Reno said after catching his breath.

Cloud's return look sent the Turk into another fit of hilarity that took even longer to recover from, and the blond sighed wearily, fully in agreement with the red head's prediction.

"This sucks."

*****

They rode next to each other, but the distance between them seemed amplified by the silence. Cloud gazed unseeingly at the flashing countryside and Reno studied the back of Sylth's neck with growing frustration. Above them in the late morning sky, thunderclouds gained in size and sound. They hovered overhead like fat blimps that were sucking in moisture but not returning it as should. Greedy and ambitious they gathered the water to them and grew larger still, rumbling their pleasure to each other with forks of lightning punctuating each pause between airy conversations.

Cloud pursed his lips as a cheery bolt of electricity took out a tree not twenty paces from where they were passing.

"This could be bad," he muttered.

Reno's head jerked up and he almost startled his chocobo into a rear with the sudden movement.

"What?" he shouted across the space.

Cloud gestured skyward and made a sign to stop. They pulled up by a river and he moved Phero close enough to talk without screaming or pantomime. 

"What do you think?"

Reno scowled at the gathering darkness and flipped it the bird. 

"I think it's pissed and we're gonna get pissed on."

"We should find a better place to stop and see if it passes."

"You have an idea?"

"I've been through here before and there's a hill, just over that crest I think, that's got an overhang we can camp out under."

Reno snorted and pulled out another pack of smokes in his seemingly never-ending supply. Packing it against his palm he considered their options.

"We either stop there or get drenched. We could keep going and get drenched but make it to Junon-"

"Why not just stop under the crest till it passes?"

"If it passes," Reno mused, staring fixedly at the rolling blackness. 

"Alright," he agreed. "We'll head for that place you mentioned."

Nudging Phero with his boots, Cloud set a fast pace moving southeast towards the line of mountains in the distance that separated the Midgar area from the rest of the Eastern continent. Reno clicked his tongue sharply and Sylth surged forward, matching Cloud's pace stride for stride. They raced faster as thunder rumbled threateningly above them, both chocobos and their masters eager to reach shelter of any kind. It was at this time that the weather decided to cut with the kiddy show and get serious. The wind picked up by exponentials, flogging the grass with its force and bending smaller trees to kiss the earth. Rain positively hailed down, the drops so icy cold and hard they raised welts on unprotected skin. Cloud ducked his head letting the spray plaster the long bangs to his forehead and shut his mouth tightly to avoid swallowing excess water. Inexplicably the rain also seemed to flow up and into the nose rendering his attempts to breathe properly completely useless.

Reno cursed loudly and creatively in long choppy sentences, punctuated by choking because his mouth quickly filled up with rainwater. His sunglasses could no longer hold back the red fronds of his own bangs and he stuffed them into the inside pocket of his suit. Letting go the reins he gripped Sylth's sides tightly with his knees and yanked his soggy hair back into a tighter ponytail. When he was done it whipped behind him like a red banner caught in a hurricane. Edging closer towards Cloud, he made a couple of curt gestures and pointed towards the approaching mountains.

Cloud peered ahead as best he could, but the rain was veritable wall and it obscured even his Mako enhanced vision. Best he could tell they were off course a bit and heading right into the Midgar Zolom's territory. He wanted to groan, but avoided opening his mouth even the slightest. The Midgar Zolom was not something he felt like dealing with. The damn serpent was always chasing travelers, and even when you killed it, it came right back to life as soon as you had to cross again. Either that thing's immortal he thought, or those snakes breed like rabbits.

Reno's thoughts began to run along the same lines as the once firm grasslands gave way to soggy swamp.

"F*&@ I HATE snakes," he growled. He lived in Midgar for a reason. A very important reason among others. Midgar may have filth. It may have the dredges of the human race living cramped in stinking hovels and eating garbage. It might even be the breeding ground of disease for the rest of the world, but it did _not_ have snakes. Knowing that they had to cross the mountains didn't make it any better. They could have crossed somewhere not infested with slimy, crawly, legless…

Abruptly Reno realized something was missing. Namely, his chocobo. For no reason apparent to him, Sylth had turned a sharp left without thinking about the fact that its rider might not be ready and couldn't fly on necessity alone. He shot off like a rocket and his trajectory carried him about 15ft before he made contact with the squishy ground.

"Goddammit! This is my best suit!!!" He roared at the direction his chocobo had last been seen running. Picking himself up he wiped a smear of mossy green sludge from off his chin and dug something unidentifiable out of his ear. 

"Oh f%#@ that's gross." Looking around he could see neither Sylth nor Cloud anywhere. The rain restricted vision to no more than 20ft, and his PHS would be useless in the downpour. Stepping forward he immediately recoiled in disgust. A small shape, like a thick noodle, was undulating slowly by his shoe. He retreated a step and felt his insides squirm. Wow, he thought suddenly. For the first time I actually want to see Cloud's spiky ass. But only to get out of here he amended. 

As Reno stood unsure of what to do in ankle deep water, a large form began working its way towards him, alerted by senses that required neither sight nor hearing to reach its target. 

By instinct or coincidence, Cloud was circling back towards Reno, eyes intent for any sign of movement. They were definitely in the Zolom's hunting grounds now, and it was never wise to challenge a 120ft serpent in its own territory without full command of your bearings. A SOLDIER never went into battle unprepared a small voice reminded him. The memory ticked at his brain, and he didn't know whether to be reassured by the good advice, or disturbed because he realized it wasn't _his_ memory. Either way, if the black chocobo that had streaked by him riderless was any indication, Reno needed help.

At the moment though, the Turk had calmed, collected himself, and drawn the gun as a small voice from his own memory recited something memorized long ago in smooth Wutaian tones. 

Let your rapidity be that of the wind, your compactness that of the forest.  
In raiding and plundering be like fire, in immovability like a mountain.  
Let your plans be dark and impenetrable as night, and when you move, fall like a thunderbolt.

And;

Move not unless you see an advantage; use not your troops unless there is something to be gained; fight not unless the position is critical.

And his personal favorite;

All warfare is based on deception.

Dropping to one knee he slid the nightstick free of its tie and held his thumb over the charger. In his right hand he clicked the safety back and held the weapon loosely, but steady. Ahead of him he could see a black shadow moving between sheets of rain, its dinner plate eyes faintly luminescent. Wiping the moisture from his own eyes he waited patiently for the right time.

Cloud twisted in his saddle looking left and right. It was nearly impossible to keep a sense of direction straight and he hadn't seen a sign of the Turk yet. He had considered briefly just leaving the nuisance there, but only for a second. He would never abandon anyone in the middle of nowhere and simply ride off, even if that person was an asshole whom he would have happily skewered many times in the past couple of hours. Though had it been Yuffie he couldn't be sure what he would do in the same situation. Amused he bore south again, straining to catch a glimpse of red.

Reno's bent leg ached from holding the position so long, but he made no movement to relieve it. Staying perfectly still was his best option for this. He had never fought the Midgar Zolom before, but Rude had once upon a time, said he had torched the damn thing but seeing as it was right in front of him and getting closer he wasn't inclined to fully believe him. Still the advice had been sound. Don't move and whatever you do don't run. The Turk took an even breath despite his shaky insides and aimed for what he guessed to be the head. But then, it stopped. The thick mass had paused not 30ft from him and was swaying where it stood like a vertical ripple of water. And then, without any reason, it curved to left and began moving again. Reno frowned and held his breath. Was it just luck? No… He could just barely make out a shock of yellow moving on the edge of his peripheral vision and getting more definable as it got closer to him. Cursing silently Reno stood and flipped on the night switch. He had no choice now, Cloud was heading straight for it, and by the way he moved he had no idea what was coming for him. Taking off at a run he sloshed after the departing snake the nightstick flashing as drops of rain splattered and sizzled on its electrified length.

****

Author's Note: Wow. This thing seems to be getting longer every chapter. ^_^ Hope I'm still coming through with the characterizations and I'm appreciate the feedback guys. It really makes me want to write, and that means more chapters, sooner. Let me know what you think of chapter 2, and any suggestion/comments are always gleefully devoured by moi.-Moira, [bane_sidhe@hotmail.com][1] Oh, btw, those quotes are from Sun Tzu's The Art of War. It seemed like something appropriate for Tseng to teach the Turks.

   [1]: mailto:bane_sidhe@hotmail.com



	4. A Continuation of Chap 3

Warning: Lots of foul language and reptile carnage ahead

**Warning:** Lots of foul language and reptile carnage ahead. You have been warned. ^_^

Also-There is story art for this fic. [Go][1] tohttp://www.geocities.com/t_u_r_k_s/CloudImage.jpgfor the first pic.

A Continuation of "Snakes Don't Taste Like Chicken"

By [Moira][2]

Cloud paused as he thought he caught a faint squelching sound. It became steadier as he listened more intently. 

*splash* *slosh slosh* 

But it could have just been the rain falling in great heavy drops. Or even Sylth backtracking like he had.

** **

Yeah right.

** **

He frowned and yanked the wet bangs that were hanging over his eyes. Blast it! He could see nothing, sense little and had water collecting in places he didn't care to think about. Where the hell was that Turk?!

As if in answer to his mental query he suddenly heard what must have been bellowed as loud as possible by the person emitting it, but it came to him like a broken whisper.

"STRIFE! MOVE YOUR AS-!!!"

He didn't pause for thought as his instincts took over. Releasing the reins he threw himself from Pheros and rolled as he hit the ground, ending in a crouch with sword drawn.

A huge shadow surged towards the now riderless chocobo and Pheros warked in increasing alarm as his rider had already dismounted in a most unorthodox fashion. It sidestepped the path of the shadow, which hissed in agitation. Wanting no part of this the chocobo took off at top speed back towards Midgar. The shadow stopped and it was now close enough for Cloud to read the intent in its slitted eyes. 

Death.

He made a move to stand but his feet shot out from under him as the tail of the serpent he hadn't seen coming robbed him of purchase. There was no time to curse as he fell backwards and his head made contact with the ground. His vision went black for a moment, but he blinked furiously and the chaotic sky returned. The Ultima sword was still gripped firmly in his right hand and he slashed blindly above him. There was another spitting hiss, but he didn't make contact. 

Suddenly the entire night sky seemed to light up as thousands of volts of electricity danced across the Zolom's length. The effect was magnified by the rain and general wetness around them, but it seemed to have little effect on the serpent, while Cloud thought his teeth would rattle loose from the jolt. It was mad to use that kind of a weapon in a downpour! He quickly regained his feet and saw Reno striking at the serpent with a crazed look in his eyes and a manic grin. Again the earth exploded all around them in a spray of hot mud as the Turk turned on the juice. But as before it had little effect. Gathering himself for a leap Cloud bunched the muscles in his legs and drove upward, sword held high overhead.He slashed viciously at the snake's undulating body and was rewarded with a spurt of hot blood from the gash he had opened along its flank.

Some of it dotted his cheeks and he drew back to avoid being crushed as the Zolom began to writhe in agony.

It must have some kind of resistance to electricity, Reno thought as his second blast again had achieved only slight damage to the creature. With his other hand he drew the gun out and began shooting at the head, scoring hits around the mouth and one very close to an eye. To his left, and recovered from the fall, he watched Cloud leap at the snake with the sword. When he saw the bright red splash in widening patches around the thrashing snake he wanted to cheer. Dropping the spent cartridge he quickly loaded another and took aim again.

Cloud was having a merry time avoiding the tail, which whipped overhead and dropped randomly with enough force to crush a tank. He danced back out of reach again when the jaws snapped in his face, and did a complicated summersault to evade the next arc of the tail. As far as he could tell the Turk was still on his feet and doing moderate amounts of damage with his gun. It was amazing actually. To get a good shot off at a constantly striking snake was impressive, but he would choose a sword any day. Shifting his grip a bit, he readied himself and charged forward using the cross-cut technique. It would have worked splendidly, but at the moment the Zolom chose to use it's own brand of magic. 

A sound like a roaring train filled the area and Reno had to resist the urge to clap his hands over his ears. Instead he continued shooting and chanted quickly under his breath. A shimmering pyramid rose from the ground to enclose him within its protective walls. He chanted again, hoping it wasn't too late for it, and a much larger pyramid swelled into shape around the Zolom. The roaring sound didn't cease though. Instead it grew even more deafening and the pyramid began to change color. Reno swore and tried one last spell to enforce the weakened barrier. Too late this time the prison burst, spewing forth flame and green light. It razed the land around them, engulfing the entire area. Reno squinted his eyes and held an arm defensively in front of his face, but his own shield held firm. When the magical attack died out he dropped it immediately and lashed out with gun, this time taking out an eye in the process.

Surrounded by green haze Cloud had to squint to see his target. The wave of energy hurt, but not like actual fire. Oh, the heat was there all right. It scorched and razed the nerves, but without much visible effect. Instead, the green flame licked at his exposed flesh searing the arm with scar, and calling forth more than physical pain. Memories roiled up inside of him, threatening to shut down conscious thought. He fought off the wave of disorientation with a snarl. No one! Never again would he be subject to those kinds of games! Unconsciously he had already called for a cure level two, to erase the residuals of the green flame, and brought his sword to bear. Advancing forward he narrowed his eyes and ignored it.

The snake was occupied with Reno, who faced it unflinchingly as it struck at him again and again. The Turk moved faster than the serpent, though it didn't seem possible, and darted back and forth to positively hail it with bullets. Once or twice it came close and the thrust of its movement forced Reno to retreat and then regroup. Cloud could feel his knuckles go white on the sword handle. This wasn't right. It shouldn't be this hard to take down. Not with the weapons and training they had both had, and that spell it had cast… That was new too. No choice though. Something was definitely going to give and he didn't intend it to be him. Catching Reno's eye Cloud waved him back and pulled a small red orb from his pouch. It glowed dully in his gloved hand and he fitted it into an empty slot on the sword. Bowing his head he chanted softly and performed an intricate movement with the weapon. Sweeping it back, and then up, he raised a hand and pointed at the snake. Bright glossy crystals, thousands of them like polished glass, burst forth and collected above the ground. The air suddenly seemed dryer and much, much colder. A blue haze formed into a roiling ball of energy, and when it too split into jagged chunks, a woman appeared. Her eyes, like the rest of her were blue. They swept chillingly over the battleground and fastened on the chosen target. She tossed her head and breathed ice crystals that joined the mass off frozen water around her. The serpent recoiled from the chill that now invaded its once humid area, and the one eye fixed on her as she hovered above. It hissed in low hateful tones. She gazed down on it dispassionately and with a flick of her delicate wrist sent the collected ball of ice hurtling towards the creature. The sound of the impact was immense and the ball fractured into jagged spears, pinning the monster beneath its weight and shredding flesh. A horrid smell like burnt tires filled the air and both men gagged noisily. Shiva never blinked and simply returned back to her summon materia with the same chilly indifference of an icicle shattering the frozen surface of a lake.

Cloud murmured a short word of relief and he and Reno moved closer to survey the damage. The Zolom still twitched and hissed in its death throes. Reno nudged an exposed portion with his foot, and it lay still. Cloud frowned at it, and turned to Reno with exasperation darkening his features. 

"What the hell were y-" 

"F%$#!"

Reno leapt back and grabbed for his nightstick. The Zolom was spasming violently again and it dislodged a chuck that showered them with needles of ice. A larger portion broke free as it thrashed again, and Cloud disappeared in curtain of white, his blue eyes wide and startled. 

_Shit!_ Reno wiped furiously at his face when blood began dripping into his eyes and running down his cheeks. He could see Cloud, or at least the portion of him that wasn't buried. The other man was still conscious, and he strained at the crushing weight of the ice. He seemed pinned beneath the load that had dropped on him, and struggling made no difference. At that instant the snake, sensing at least a partial victory, managed one last strike at the prey that now finally acted like one. Trapped and unable to save himself, Cloud could only bare his teeth and watch as the head came down.

**_C/R/A/C/K/L/E!!!_**

The Zolom jerked spastically as electricity coursed through its very core. Reno had charged the nightstick and drove it into one of the many wounds decorating the ravaged hide. He urged it deeper with all his strength and the hissing was overcome with the sizzling of charred tissue. With a sickening pop the length of the snake exploded, and yet again they were subject to a downpour, but this time it was smoking chunks of flesh. Reno choked on the acrid stench and released the nightstick to put a hand to his mouth. When he finally looked up he realized that it was no longer raining. Anything. The sky was a deepening blue now and the sun shone high overhead. Scrubbing the worst of the blood off his face from the dozen miniscule cuts, he trudged to where Cloud still lay half buried. 

The other man sat stiffly, blinking the smoke from his watering eyes. He tried to move but found it difficult and not just a bit painful, so he stopped. As Reno approached he gazed at the Turk solemnly, and as seriously as one could buried in ice and wearing what he thought might be a piece of the Zolom for a hat.

"You look like shit," the Turk commented, crouching on his heels.

"Don't look so hot yourself," Cloud noted as he took in the other mans charred clothing and bloodied face.

Reno shrugged. "I ain't worried. It's nothing serious." "You on the other hand look to be in a spot of trouble. I wouldn't want ya to think I don't care or anything, but-"

"Reno?"

"Yeah?"

"Shut the hell up and dig me out."

The Turk shrugged. "Just trying t' make nice seeing as I saved your ass an all."

Cloud sighed deeply, but Reno made no move to help. Instead he rocked back on his heels, a grin tugging at the corners of his mouth.

"What?!" Cloud practically shouted.

"I was just thinking," Reno said.

"Must be hard."

A red eyebrow rose, and if anything the grin spread wider. "I was just thinking, that even buried under half a ton of ice you're still an asshole of epic proportions."

"Gee, I guess that makes you a genius."

"You know what your problem is Strife?"

"I don't suppose you'll let me go without hearing it?"

"Fuck no. Someone shoulda told you this ages ago. I'm sure at least one of your AVALANCHE buddies musta been sick of it. What your problem is, is that you seem to think everyone's playin' on your team."

"What?"

"It's a deferment thing. You should know that being in ShinRa once. Maybe not SOLDIER, but you _were_ military."

Cloud flinched at his words, but it was only apparent in the set of his jaw.

"You're not everyone's leader Strife," Reno continued. "We don't play nice, never have, but you seem to expect everyone to fall in line. You're not a team player unless you're in charge. You're trying to control something you never even had a chance to understand. There's something else wrong with you too. Maybe it ain't visible, but you reek of doubt. There's no peace for you after the war is there? Some of us just like to fight. Am I right?"

Cloud still said nothing, just stared at him balefully.

The smile disappeared from sight, but not because of the look Cloud was giving him. Reno narrowed his eyes and tapped the nightstick on his knee.

"You're going to have more problems if you don't accept that," Reno said.

He ran a long finger over one of the scars that adorned his cheeks.

"I did."

"You know what Reno?"

"Mm?"

"Fuck you. You have no idea what my life has been like. You don't know me, and you certainly have no right to judge whatever reasons govern the decisions I make. At least _I'm_ facing them with more than a bottle of alcohol."

The Turk's smile returned, but it was nasty.

"Maybe I should just leave you here. You know, we never did finish our business in Midgar that day."

Cloud felt like yelling, he really did, but at that time he was also feeling battered, bleeding, and just plain tired. Wearily he leaned his head against the ice that held him fast, letting the cool seep through his cheek and into the turmoil that was his brain.

Reno watched him carefully for a moment, the green eyes intent on the other man's face. With a snort that sounded half laugh, half exhaustion, he stood and stretched, and tucking the nightstick back in its holster he began to shift the rubble around.

About a half hour later he had removed his jacket and worked without comment on the quickly diminishing ice. He was thankful for the sun melting it at the same time he was clearing it, but it was an odd contrast of cold and hot. His back, face and neck felt scorched by the relentless heat of a quickly ending midday, and his hands were red with a different kind of burn. Numb fingers grasped the edge of one particularly large piece and he heaved, the muscles straining in his shoulders and back. Cloud had ceased to even look at him during the process, and Reno felt driven only by the need to finish. With a grunt he flipped it over and Cloud could finally move.

He was lucky, Reno thought, eyeing the damage. At least the ice has served as a compress to help reduce the swelling and stop the bleeding.The left leg though…that was a mess. While it didn't appear to be broken, ground meat might have fit the bill nicely. Cloud tried to stand, but of course it gave way and began oozing blood again. To his credit the ex-SOLDIER didn't cry out, but his color swiftly dropped from white to green. Reno bent over and heaved him back up. Encircling the smaller man about the waist he half carried him clear of the mess. Cloud looked close to fainting.

"Full Cure!" The Turk called out. Light diffused the area and when it cleared Cloud could stand on his own.

The blond haired man pressed a hand to his forehead and licked his lips. He then sighed something, which sounded suspiciously like "thanks".

Reno held a hand up to his ear. "What was that?" He asked sweetly.

Cloud opened his mouth, shut it, and nodded at the other man. 

"Thank you."

The first genuine smile he had ever seen Reno give, split the Turk's face.

"You're welcome. Now gimp your ass over here so we can get outta this S&#@ hole."

"And how do you plan to do that? Pheros will head for either the chocobo farm or Midgar, and yours took off too."

Reno smiled again and brought two fingers to his lips. A shrill whistle, loud and piercing, filled the air.

"Any minute now," he announced.

And so they waited. And waited some more. Sprawled on a tree stump Reno puffed angrily on a cigarette. Cloud sat on a moss-encrusted log with his injured leg stretched out to rest on a rock. It would take a bit more than Restore materia to patch that up. Probably a couple of days even. He stared fixedly at the ground, ignoring the occasional twinges in his limbs, and thought briefly of a time almost a year ago when the lines between enemy and friend were a little clearer cut. Frowning at the white line on his arm, he almost jumped when a loud gurgle worked its way free of his stomach. He grimaced. It had been along time since breakfast. 

Reno glanced up and echoed his inner thoughts.

Wrinkling his nose he said, "Man. Even though this place smells worse than a chocobo stall, I am starving!"

"I could eat a certain black one right about now…" He added with an evil smile.

Cloud paused and an indefinable expression flitted across his face.

Reno looked back at him. "What? You got something in that pouch of yours?" He said hopefully.

Cloud shook his head, but he stood up and limped over to the decaying corpse of the Zolom. With a deft cut of his sword he sliced off a small portion of white meat. It was still hot to the touch.

Reno looked at him with something akin to incredulity. 

"You're not thinking…"

Giving him a toothy smile Cloud brought the piece to his mouth and ripped off a bite. Chewing it thoughtfully he added, "Tastes like chicken."

The Turk wasn't convinced, but hungry nonetheless.

"Yeah? I dunno. Looks pretty iffy to me…"

Cloud shrugged and returned to his moldy seat. He took another bite and chewed it blissfully.

Reno looked from him to the Zolom, and then back again at the piece Cloud was currently devouring with what looked like extreme satisfaction. His mouth began watering of its own accord and he swallowed a bit roughly.

"I…ah… Like chicken you said?"

Cloud spared the time to nod between fist-sized bites.

Taking in a deep breath the Turk strolled over to the remains of the snake, hands shoved into deep pockets. He snuck a quick glance back at Cloud to make sure he wasn't being put on, and knelt down to unsheathe one of his knives. Spinning nervously over his knuckles, the weapon flashed in the daylight. He bit his bottom lip in indecision. 

This was a snake. A rotten, skuzzy, scaly _thing _that had just tried to eat him. Its exposed flank steamed in the sun, giving off waves of heat. 

"ugh…" Was all he could think of to illustrate his feelings for the idea of putting _that_ in his mouth. But, regardless of the many revolting images that sprang to mind, his stomach growled noisily.

"I can't believe I'm doing this…" He muttered, and bent down to cut a piece free of the outer skin. Holding it delicately between the thumb and index finger he made a face. 

Cloud was now watching him with a bemused expression. 

He glared at the blond and, averting his eyes, nipped a small portion off the chunk.

He worked at it with his molars, grinding the soft meat into manageable parts. Swallowing with difficulty he shuddered and gripped the handle of the knife until his knuckles turned white.

"THAT," he declared with a scowl, "Did NOT taste like chicken!!!"

Cloud's wide grin said everything.

He stalked back to his tree stump and turned away from the laughter that rose merrily at his expense. Even as Cloud began hiccupping when it got to be too much for him, Reno was still holding possessively onto the meat. Studiously ignoring the sound of someone falling off their log he took another bite and muttered to himself about village idiots and several unpleasant ways to die in the wild. 

And so they waited some more.

* * * * * *

Author's Note: Er…maybe a bit long, and not to mention the fact that it's chapter 2 and a half and they haven't even hauled their arses to Junon yet. ^_^ Still, I do so love a good fight, and this was a necessary addition. (and not just for the title clarification) Expect them to finally get their journey underway and snake free in the next chapter. Junon awaits and it's the part Reno has been waiting for. The bars. R & R comments, suggestions, and wilderness cooking recipes. All appreciated. [bane_sidhe@hotmail.com][2]

Oh, and if you like Turk stuff, I also co-host a site that's exclusively them. It has more than the lion's share of fics, art, commentary and links. Stop by and browse around if it pleases you. [http://turks.implicate.net][3]

   [1]: http://www.geocities.com/t_u_r_k_s/CloudImage.jpg
   [2]: mailto:bane_sidhe@hotmail.com
   [3]: http://turks.implicate.net/



	5. A Fools Dream

Forgot to mention last time

Forgot to mention last time. There's another piece of story art for MM. This one is of [Reno][1] during the Zolom bashing scene. ^_^ http://www.geocities.com/t_u_r_k_s/RenoforMM.jpg

Many Moons 

By [Moira][2]

Chapter 4-A Fool's Dream

He sat against the log now, the breeze ruffling his hair. The blond bangs whispered across his forehead and feathered lightly back into their original positions. Moss from the dead wood clung to his uniform in patches, and despite the stagnant air from the swamp, his personal space smelled of green and water. He gazed out and far across the land, eyes looking but not seeing. The mountains rose in modest peaks, their rocky masses like an uneven pattern of stitches. Gray and brown, molted green. The air was warm and heavy, drowsy and inviting for sleep. His blue eyes focused for a brief moment as something in the distance took flight. The wings beat at the air and a cry of triumph echoed down into the valley. Unoccupied once more, his eyes unfocused and the lashes fluttered downward. In a moment his innocent dozing became much deeper. 

A haze of blue beat at the undersides of his eyelids. As the wings of that bird he had seen, the azure hue throbbed and breathed like any living thing. He signed peacefully and straightened up in his dream. He was sitting cross-legged, the Ultima sword braced against his knees. All around him the wall of color and light seemed to spread, envelope. He looked down at the weapon balanced on his legs. There was writing on the handle and the blond brows bunched together in an unspoken question. He lifted it to his face and traced the flow of angular letters. 

PAST ME

I CAN ONLY SEE

THE RED OF WHITE

THE WHITE OF GOLD

THE ONE WHO AGES

BUT DOES NOT GROW OLD

I HAD A NAME

BUT I NOW FORGET

SOMETIMES I WONDER

WHERE IT WENT

I AM THE END OF A LINE

YOU KEEP ME STRUNG

MYSELF I NO LONGER OWN

BUT YOU ARE OWNED BY THREE

AND ONE OF THOSE GONE 

BUT LEFT HERE

IS THE PARTIAL OWNER 

ME

His lips parted as he repeated each word. Moved a finger through every groove, and reached the end where it began again. The sword had never had any writing. He knew that, and recognized the discrepancy in the dream, but there it was. 

"I am…"

Blue beat at his senses. He turned his head side to side, listening for a sign. The scar on his arm began to throb dully, distracting him. He rubbed it unconsciously, lightly tracing the path of the wound like he had the engravings on the sword. 

"I am…?" He repeated, a note of doubt entering his normally reassured tone.

"You are a fool," a familiar voice said evenly.

"I…Sephiroth?!"

Out of the undefined blue area stepped a man that had not been a man for over a year. He remained unchanged in appearance from those last days. His silver white hair still radiated power, and the pale countenance positively glowed. This man had once contended to be a god. He looked the part, and acted like a devil. Or had. He wasn't alive anymore to judge.

Cloud stood up stiffly, his body betraying the anxiety he felt flood his senses. 

The taller man looked at him with severity. Under the disapproval of those green eyes the younger man flinched. Even after it all, it was still the general and the soldier that never quite made it. His face flushed with shame and he straightened.

He might have imagined it, like everything else in this dream, but he thought he caught the ghost of a smile pass over those cold lips. 

"You're dead," He began.

"And you're a fool." Sephiroth repeated.

Cloud tightened the grip on the sword he now realized he was holding.

"You're a fool, because you still haven't learned."

"What're you talking about Sephiroth?"

"He means," came another voice. "That you should know by now, that we're not-"

"That we're not living anymore. Zax, stop footing around it." Sephiroth directed to another man, who was stepping through the wall.

The new arrival was entering backwards, like someone climbing out of a window, only of course, there wasn't one. His hair struck out at erratic angles like blackened spears, and it reached down almost as far as Sephiroth's. Turning his head as he made it into the 'room' with the other two, and a disapproving frown creased his features. It was directed, incredibly, at Sephiroth, who merely snorted and looked aloof. Seeing Cloud though, a smile burst forth like sun through the clouds. 

It was contagious, and Cloud grinned back, but his eventually faded into confusion.

"And that makes me a fool? I don't understand," he said, his voice close to cracking with emotion.

Zax glanced at Sephiroth, and then back to Cloud with a sad smile.

"I know, and I want to help you, but this is something you have to sort out by yourself Cloud."

Sephiroth folded his arms across his chest, giving Zax a look that clearly said, _soft_.

"You are hopeless Zax. He will never get it. Look at the time that has passed, and he still doesn't even have a clue."

The black haired man spoke softly, but there was an edge underlying anger to it. 

"This from a fallen god-wannabe?"

"You know I regret that. Even controlled by that… Well even dying like that held more dignity than being shot like dog."

"At least I wasn't put under by a toy cat."

"It was a very armored toy cat and…"

Cloud's expression during this exchange flowed from anger, to bewilderment, to deathly pale.

His voice cracked, but he swallowed and went on nonetheless. "Don't you dare speak about it like he died without meaning you megalomaniac, pretentious, psycho, murderer, asshole %^&@# BASTARD!!!"

Both Sephiroth and Zax looked surprised at the outburst, as if they had forgotten he was even there.

Something was stinging in his eyes, and the hand on the sword hurt terribly.

Sephiroth didn't have the decency to look embarrassed, but Zax flushed from head to foot. The dark haired man was almost as physically accomplished as Sephiroth, but with one hand in his nonexistent pocket, seeing as he was dead and all, and slouching, the SOLDIER first class seemed boyish and thin. He stepped forward and put a hand on Cloud's shoulder. The blond was shaking, whether with fury or emotion, it couldn't be told. Zax bent down and looked into the blue mako eyes that stared relentlessly forward. 

Cloud blinked furiously and finally acknowledged him.

"Cloud…" Zax said."I know, and he does too even if he doesn't show it. It was a poor way to die-"

Cloud opened his mouth to retort this, but Zax held up a gloved hand.

"It _was _a crappy way for a SOLDIER to go, especially because it left you by yourself like that." "No," he said, reading the indignation in the other man's face. "It wasn't fair, and yes, I regret leaving you despite whatever weird ideas you have on the matter. You always did berate yourself too much." "But," he continued, "It wasn't meaningless. You made it didn't you?"He smiled broadly. "You succeeded where we left off, and look at you! You saved the freaking world!"

If anything Cloud's face fell even more at these words. His arms held slack now at his sides, the strength gone from them. He looked away from Zax and the long bangs hid his face.

"It never ends though. I can't get away from it. Any of it." He looked up into Zax's tense face. "It should have been me. I never know what to do," he said bitterly.

Sephiroth opened his mouth to speak, but Zax glared him into continued silence.

Cloud stared fixedly at the ground, his teeth clenched into the parody of a smile. The intensity of it was unerving. Zax shook him lightly.

"Cloud…"

"…."

"You may be a fool," Sephiroth abruptly broke in. Zax looked ready to kill, but the once General ignored him completely. He walked in long strides till he reached the younger man. Appraising him with scrutiny the green eyes ended on his sword arm. The white scar there was almost luminescent on the tanned limb.

"You did, beat me once Strife. If this little thing drives you to do…foolish things, then I shall have to attribute that victory to luck."

"Gee, that's generous," Zax said dryly."Alright, while his royal highness here-"

Sephiroth scowled darkly.

"…has problems even condescending, he does mean well."

Even Cloud had problems buying this line. Zax grimaced at his choice of words and tried again.

"Ok…uh, look. That guy you fought in North Crater, yeah I know all about it, that was Seph and JENOVA. In flat terms, that guy was so far off his rocker he would have eaten a live chocobo and giggled while he did it."

There was disquiet shuffling from Sephiroth and, "…giggle?"

"This guy here," Zax jerked a thumb in his direction, "is the same cold bastard that made me cut off my own thumb to get out of cuffs while in the SOLDIER training program. And then made me CURE it myself the heartless…."

Sephiroth seemed unfazed by this description, but Cloud thought he caught another questioning, "…giggle?" mouthed under the General's breath.

He looked back to Zax, the blue eyes still troubled, but catching on. 

"So, this is the old Sephiroth? What happened to…"

Zax shook his head vehemently. "Don't even think it Cloud. Really. Don't until you pick up on the other thing."

"**What** other thing?!" Cloud was beginning to get irritated by all the secrecy, but then he noticed Zax and Sephiroth were no longer paying any attention to him. They seemed to be listening for something. Zax withdrew his hand from Cloud's shoulder and backed up to stand beside Sephiroth.

"Seph…" He said, a note of serious underlining the mood. 

"I know," Sephiroth said quietly, and with one smooth movement drew Masamune from out of nowhere.

Zax performed a similar trick and the Buster sword was out. He held it in front, and flanked Sephiroth protectively. Years of fighting together hadn't faded with even death. His light blue eyes flicked from left to right, searching and not finding the source of tension that suddenly permeated the atmosphere.

Cloud stepped towards them, his hand out and the question posed on his lips.

The walls were darkening perceptively now, black bleeding into the crystalline blue. Sephiroth gave Zax an almost imperceptible nod, and they both moved as one, backing up slowly towards the remaining blue wall.

"Wait! What's going on?! Don't leave yet!"

Zax gave him a tight smile. "You just go back. You can't stay here and neither can we."

"But why? What's going on and what am I supposed to understand?!" Cloud shouted, and had to, because a buzzing began to overwhelm the pulsating beat. 

Sephiroth grabbed Zax by the arm. "We are leaving." He growled, pulling the other man backwards. They started to sink into the wall, Sephiroth first, his hand still clamped tightly to Zax's bicep. As Zax began disappearing as well, he shot Cloud a nervous grin.

"If things keep going like they are, we talk again! Real soon!"

"But-"

"I promise! Just remember to he-" And he was cut off as the buzz became deafening and all traces of the two visitors from the grave were gone. Cloud spun in a circle, looking desperately for a way out himself. There had to be one! This was… Wasn't it only a…? He dropped the sword and fell to his knees as he was sure blood would begin to flow between the fingertips clamped over his ears. Should it hurt this badly? For Holy's sake, it was only a-"

"-DREAM!" Reno shouted in his ear. "Dammit Cloud! Wake up! You're-"

Cloud shook awake with a start. He gasped in pain as Reno bellowed into his ear even as he was fully conscious now. White light lanced through his head and he thought he might be sick.

Reno recoiled at the withering glare shot in his direction.

"Jeez," he said. "You're the one who was all thrashing and babbling. I just woke you up because you looked for a moment like… Well, I woke you up anyway. No need to kill with the eyes."

The red head made the sign of the cross, mock fear slipping into one sided smile.

"Besides," he added with a smugly. "Guess who finally showed up?"

Cloud struggled to his feet and tottered there, his balance tenuous. Reno frowned and stood as well, but his manner clearly said, if you fall I'm gonna either laugh or rifle through your pockets for spare gil and take off.

The blond managed his footing and whipped his head in the direction a loud "wark!" suddenly came from.

Sylth stood placidly beside Reno's tree stump, and favored them both with a look that put them below her standards; and as she nipped daintily at the sparse patches of grass, below priority too.

Reno stalked over to her grabbed the reins roughly. He yanked her beak away from the grass, and she yanked back catching him completely off guard.

Cloud looked on, but said nothing. The dream was still too fresh in his mind to fully appreciate the spectacle of a Turk wrestling a chocobo in mud, but he logged it away for later.

The bird finally won out, but some Millet greens persuaded it to behave. With the setting sun they were eventually able to move out. 

Reno, in an unexpected show of common sense, had Cloud ride while he jogged along side. It would have been senseless for Cloud to do the running because of his injury, and they both couldn't fit on Sylth, but the lack of fuss on the Turk's part was nothing short of eerie. The Turk earned even more grudging respect when he was able to keep up with Sylth's moderate pace well into the night. They still had another hour before Junon was a certainty, and Cloud kept to himself, mulling over the dream with a recollection he had never had for any other.

Beside the bird Reno loped in ground eating strides, his breathing steady, but telltale heavy. He had a few questions to put to Strife when they arrived, and not all had to do with snakes and destinations. Something he had muttered in his sleep had struck familiar grounds in Reno's own memories. An explanation was needed. He deserved at least that much. And when they finally got to Junon, they would have a little talk about this Nibelheim thing. Oh yes. And Zax too. Reno had thought of another little snippet of info that needed addressing. There was much to discuss, and little enough time to do it in.

****

Author's Note: Yeah-yeah. I promised Junon and you got mud wrestling. Go figure. I'm just gonna quit promising things and say fervently, I HOPE for Junon next chapter. Hoping is safe. It doesn't get you bricked. Usually. O_oAs per normal procedure here, R&R comments, suggestions, and canned goods if you feel so inclined. Thanks for the input last time too. I'm still blushing. ^_^ -Mo

   [1]: http://www.geocities.com/t_u_r_k_s/RenoforMM.jpg
   [2]: maito:bane_sidhe@hotmail.com



	6. The Odd Couple

Many Moons 

By [Moira][1]

Chapter 5-The Odd Couple

Junon.

Like a metal extension of the land. Hard to tell where one ended and the other began, if not for the unnatural smoothness of the military structure.

Too precise. Too perfect. Too damn ugly when compared to the rest of the rugged seascape.

The breakers beat relentlessly on the outer casing of that man-made shell. It was an oblong shape of sheer metal. Levels rose to contend with the surrounding hillsides branching out in runways and platforms where aircrafts that sat clustered in groups. People moved along the catwalks, going about their business, though most of it seemed repair related. The traces of Diamond Weapon's attack still lingered on more than half a year after it's destruction. Visible cracks split the main body and spidered along the turrets of the gun tower. Debris littered the beaches below, scraps not worth salvage or just too cumbersome to move. Not a few half obscured uniforms were also peeking through the sand here and there in patches of faded blue, their owners either gone or buried with them. It had been a disastrous attack, but Midgar had been worse. Much worse. More time was needed to patch those holes and erase the lingering feel of death, but hope flourished even in the worst of times. Human beings, someone once said, are at their best, when they are at their worst.

A rider and chocobo approached, followed shortly by another man, bare-chested and breathing hard. They stopped adjacent to the town portion of the base just as the sun crested the horizon. Bright orange rays speared the blue waters and bounced off the base's reflective casing. The man riding the chocobo closed his eyes and let the warmth bathe his skin with fingers of gold. It washed over him in a pool of heat and he sat motionless, enjoying it, or maybe it was just his way of welcoming the day.

Beside him the bare-chested man was bent double, hands braced on his knees. Strands of sweat soaked hair were glued to his forehead and back, making it appear from a distance that he had been whipped. Up close it actually looked worse. He was bleeding a little from several minor cuts and scrapes across the face and shoulders. Sweat and dirt streaked his body like ill placed tattoos, and dropping dead seemed the next logical course of action.

The rider opened his eyes slowly and surveyed the small costal town. Pulling some drooping strands of blond hair out of his mouth he addressed the other man.

"We're almost there. You gonna make it?"

"…_wheeze_..._wheeze_…"

"Is that a yes, or a no, I'm too old for this shit?"

"…_cough._..kiss my…_wheeze_…ass Strife."

Cloud raised a fair eyebrow and began the motions of blowing a kiss.

Instinctively, and without looking up, the red-haired man withdrew something from a thong attached to the belt loop at his side. With a small adjustment and a deft flick of the wrist, a long metal rod extended. It sparked slightly, and without preamble he touched the tip of it to the tail feathers of the black chocobo. There was a pop, like an amplified charge of static, and the bird screeched loudly. Black feathers left a slowly falling blizzard in the chocobo's wake as it charged through Junon with its rider caught off guard, and eventually off mount. Unfortunately, or fortunately as one could take it, the blond man's boot caught in the stirrup and he was dragged bumping and screaming through the center of town.

"Heh"

The Turk straightened with a satisfied air. He stretched like a cat and dug a crumpled cigarette from out of his side pocket. Lighting it with a flourish he clamped it between grinning teeth, hooked each thumb on a belt loop, and strolled at a leisurely pace into Junon.

*****

A metal fan _whupped_ overhead, broad and slightly angled, moving the climate controlled air about a sterile looking room. The off white walls were undecorated and stripped of any personality. There was more metal than anything else, whether furniture or instruments. Shades were drawn down, cutting off the morning sun, but blades of light snuck through the kinks and stretched out over the form of a young man lying with his back to the window. The hospital bed was almost dead center and the rungs of the guardrail lay flat on the sides as if someone had purposefully pushed them away from their upright positions. 

The current occupant of the bed twitched with some unseen irritation and continued to glare balefully at a steel cast stool by the door. He idly plucked a splinter of wood from somewhere in the vicinity of his lower pants, then shuffled completely onto his stomach where further inspection produced what looked to be a gate latch, more splinters, and a dusty, ribbed fishbone. He grimaced at the latter and pushed his sun burnt face into the pillow.

"You don't kill your allies. You don't dismember your allies and force feed them their spines."

Cloud rolled over with a wince and stared at the ceiling of the hospital station within the compound and told himself this many, many times. Unconsciously he groped for his sword, which had been wisely confiscated by the doctor. Not finding it he clenched the overly starched sheets between his fingers.

"A level 3 fire casting to warm things up. A gravity spell to pin his ass to the floor. A Silence to shut him up. Follow up with the Climhazzard and rip him a new assho-"

The door to the infirmary swung open with a bang. Reno practically bounced in, a large box nestled in the crook of one elbow.

"Miss me?" He grinned at Cloud.

"Oh, _so _many ways to answer that," the blond growled.

Ignoring the warning signs completely, Reno shut the door and sought out the stool. Once he had settled it next to the bed and perched on top like some kind of animated parrot, he snagged the box and held it lovingly to his chest. The writing on the outside, or what Cloud could make out through tightly wound arms was,

MR. MIDGAR'S DONUTS

"I can't believe they had one of these here!" Reno exclaimed, lifting the lid.

Cloud failed to see the miracle here and lay back down against the pillow. The aches and pains had only been magnified tenfold by his little escapade through lower Junon. Partly de-clothed by all the dragging, eventually left with no shirt, half a gate shrub entangled in his hair and ending it all by screaming incoherently at pedestrians, he was in no mood for certain people. Dusty fingers came up and traced a line of raw skin that stretched from ear to neck along the jaw. He gritted his teeth as he found another set of similar track marks across his chin and nose. He really couldn't blame that shopkeeper for calling the guards he supposed. He must have looked a bit odd hanging from Sylth's stirrups with that bush obscuring his face. Hell, if a hedge had suddenly appeared and threatened him with an impending gory death he would have called for help, or at least a summon materia. The additional cursing against any living relatives, pets, and generally anything and everything might have been a bit excessive too. He _could_ see a problem though with being knocked repeatedly about the body with a bucket. A guy could only take so much abuse and that roped water pail had left marks all over him. Sylth had had her go at bashing him too.

"Everyone loves me!" He declared mentally. "Aren't I special?" Tifa would call this karma, but he thought it more just a bad case of traveling companions.

Attention and mouth occupied with a jelly filled confection that was leaking down his chin, Reno missed the glower that spoke volumes of the retribution coming his way. Instead, he tried to fit more into his maw and made a garbled offer for a pastry.

An aged doctor who was attending moved to the bedside and examined a leafy twig in Cloud's ear. He continued on to the crisscrossing burns that made red stripes from head to shoulders. From there on were the usual scrapes, small embedded rocks and an occasional feather threaded through the remains of a shirt. The doctor nodded and made notes that looked suspiciously like flower doodles from Cloud's vantage point.

Again Reno waved the honey-glazed ring at the patient. Cloud peered at it unenthusiastically, but took it anyway to distract his mind from the prodding that had now moved to his hip. The doctor ambled further down and uncovered the leg that had been crushed during the fight with the Zolom. Parts of the material were all but bonded to the skin with dried blood and dirt. The doctor wrinkled his nose and took a pair of scissors from out of a pocket in his lab coat to cut it away.

Cloud practically threw the doughnut in the man's face; so frantic was he to stop the further destruction of his pants.

"I'll take 'em off alright?! Just give me a second."

Reno looked up in surprise at the vehemence in the blond man's voice. He thought he had caught an undercurrent of desperation there too, but how important were pants in the grand scheme of things? He kept his comments to himself for once and munched quietly at the jelly krueller. Swallowing the mouthful he said,

"We need to talk ya know."

Cloud was fumbling with the belt and the straps that held them up with the kind of clumsy tension that made Reno frown.

"Yeah I know," he said finally, "but later. After I get this out of the way and get a shower." "Where should we…"

"The Lazarus Pit!" The Turk declared immediately.

"The what?"

"It's a bar on the 3rd level. I know the owner and the Turks hang out there, or we used to. It's a good spot."

"I'm sure."

Cloud suddenly paused in mid-unbuckle and a blank look crossed his face. Again Reno missed the expression in his engaging search for another glazed doughnut. The blond turned and motioned to the doctor, who had one of his socks and was twirling it on the end of a pen. They held a brief whispered conversation behind Cloud's raised hand. He gestured at the box Reno still had clasped to him and explained something. The doctor cocked his head to one side and looked doubtful, but nodded. A nurse was conferred with and also briefed. Meanwhile Reno, unable to locate another one, had to settle for a Mideel Crème.

He looked up with the doughnut held triumphantly in his hand, and found everyone staring at him.

"What? I got some on my suit?" He looked down, though of course jelly on his suit was the least of things that currently stained it. 

When no one answered him he shrugged and stood ready to leave.

"Ah…sir?"

"Mmm?" Was the muffled reply.

"We need to have a look at you too."

"I'm ok-"

The nurse materialized next to him. She smiled sweetly and Reno thought he might be able to guess what she had eaten for lunch based on the piece of food between her teeth.

Not wanting to abandon the box Reno clutched it possessively to his chest.

"Just a quick look sir. To make sure everything checks out." The nurse motioned for him to release the doughnuts from the death grip they were in. Reno looked at Cloud suspiciously, who ignored him, and then at the doctor who seemed to find Cloud's feather encrusted boot more interesting than his patient or doughnuts.

"I don't think-" Reno began as he backed towards the relative safety of the door.

Small hands grasped him by the ponytail and yanked hard until his face was level with hers. 

"MOVE IT MISTER!"

As one they moved to the opposite door, the nurse leading, and Reno practically duck walking because of the leverage she had on his hair.

"Were you in SOLDIER at any time?" Reno asked as she dragged him into the back room.

The door clicked and the remaining occupants glanced at each other. Cloud jutted his chin towards the box that now rested on the edge of the stool.

"Now's your chance."

The doctor shuffled to a drawer and rifled through it a moment before producing a vial and needle. He tapped the tube of clearish liquid with a finger.

"So he was exposed to high levels of Mako? He doesn't appear to be deteriorating much, unless you take in his state of dissaray."

"Yeah," Cloud affirmed. "VERY high levels. You can't really detect his kind of crazy unless you've traveled with him like I have. Believe me doc, he shows all the signs of loosing it."

"I don't know…" the doctor hedged, looked back to the door the Turk had disappeared behind.

Cloud took a deep breath and put on the face he usually used when explaining to Yuffie that Vincent was more likely to shoot her than ask politely for his materia back.

"I've had a problem similar to this. I know all the warning signs doctor. He needs that counter agent now, but he won't take it if you tell him directly."

"He must be a very close friend for you to be so concerned," the doctor said.

Cloud favored him with a genuine smile. "Oh yes. I'm a very concerned party."

"And you're sure he won't take it willingly?"

"I'm sure. This is the best way to administer the drugs to him."

With a last glance at the closed door the doctor leaned over the box and selected a powdered bun that oozed red filling. Inserting the needle he emptied the contents of the tube and replaced it back to its original position.

"That should help, but are you familiar with the general side effects?"

Cloud practically hummed to his answer. "**Quite** familiar. I went through them all once upon a time."

"Oh?" The man looked interested. "We don't really have many cases of it, but ever since the problems with the reactors we keep a counter agent handy. The speech problem should wear off in a matter of hours, but the time span for the onset of insomnia is different for everyone."

"I'll be sure to tell him."

The doctor nodded. "Well, now what to do with you then. I see you've already had a Full Cure at least once, but I'm going to administer it again along with an added Restore command. That should have you back on your feet and in a couple of days you'll be back to…," the man glanced at the remains of his clothing and then at the small pile of feathers that had accumulated on the floor, "ah, normal, in no time."

As the doctor selected a bright green materia from his coat pocket, the door Reno and the nurse had disappeared behind opened. The Turk emerged looking paler than he had upon entering. The nurse followed close behind him, shedding a plastic glove into the wastebasket as she passed it, and while he looked disturbed she was downright jovial.

"Everything checks out," she announced.

Reno shuddered.

Cloud looked suddenly pleased with life in general, or at least until the nurse turned her attentions on him.

"I'll be going now," Reno said. He bent down mechanically to retrieve the doughnuts and made for the door.

"Oh." The Turk paused and turned back around. He looked at the nurse, and then gestured to Cloud.

"Don't forget what we talked about." He winked at her, and grin spread from ear to ear as he heard Cloud's protests begin to rise in octave even through the closing door. With a little jig in his step he left the hospital wing of the compound.

*****

"So," said a voice.

"So," said another.

"No really," said the first.

"After you," was the reply.

A sigh lifted, telling of both frustration and irritation.

"It nearly killed him."

"And…?"

"And you don't find that remotely disturbing?"

"Not particularly."

The first man who had spoken raised a long fingered hand to the bridge of his nose and rubbed judiciously.

"Do you even have an inkling of how important he is?"

"Actually I've wanted him dead for years. Whether or not he has anything to do with the receiver end of the experiment means nothing to me."

"Aren't you even slightly curious as to what Hojo was up to?"

"I wanted him dead too."

The first man threw his hands up in exasperation. "Well if you want the man to stay dead then by all means go after Delaney with a rusted pipe. But if you have even a shred of ambition in your body, then help out instead of…" "Dammit man! Stop eating my croissants!" 

"You're gonna die of stress before anything happens at this rate."

"…"

Stuffing the last bit of flaky bread into his mouth the second man picked up a photo. He studied it a moment then held it up for the other man to see.

"And what about him?"

"Eh?" The first man took it from him and ran a nail over the glossy surface. Within the white borders of the picture a man slouched against a stucco wall, one knee drawn up to his chest. Sun beat at the figure putting spiky blond hair and unmistakable blue eyes in sharp relief. He was dressed in multi-pocketed shorts and a white tank top, which displayed well-muscled shoulders and a deepening tan. Beside him, and also leaning against the wall of the building, was a broad sword, flat, and gleaming with pink, red, and green stones embedded in the handle and cross bar. 

"Cloud Strife," the first man murmured.

"Resident hero and world saver extraordinaire," the second man confirmed in a mocking voice. "Only problem is, that ain't the same guy I remember."

"What?"

"That guy. That ain't Cloud Strife."

****

Author's Note: Well, they finally made it, but yet again I leave little enough information for you to chew on. I promise though, it will make more sense once you see the cards laid out like they will be in the next chapter. As for Cloud not being who he is, that's a mystery that's been raging from day one since the game came out. Hopefully I'll make your heads hurt in the next chapter and then remedy it by having Reno do a table dance. Or something really out of place like Cloud doing a table dance...gah... -Mo 

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   [1]: maito:bane_sidhe@hotmail.com
   [2]: http://www.geocities.com/t_u_r_k_s/fanfiction/manymoons/chap4.html
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	7. Hangovers and HangUps

Many Moons, by Moira  
  
Chapter 6; Hangovers and Hang-Ups  
  
  
  
A gray, overcast color dominated the sky, if a 'sky' it could be called. It seemed more a logical half of a divider between up and down. Down, as it were, was characterized by concrete colored grit. Smooth and even. There were no hills or marks on the land to distinguish one spot from another. All in all, bland was perhaps the kindest word to put to it. It even lacked a 3-D type quality. As if one could set it on its side and it would simply be a straight line.  
  
There in this odd kind of space was one thing to make it worthy of comment though. There was a man. And he had been sitting in this place for a long time. Or so it felt.  
  
He had no other means by which to judge this, but his inner clock spoke of years. Years he couldn't place or define. Time was a funny thing here.  
  
This strange, or at least unprecedented, return to 'wakefulness' was what made him notice the incongruity. That it had never occurred to him until now made for uneasy company. It also made him restless. Troubled, he stood and began pacing, hands shoved deep into the pockets of his white coat.  
  
It was if…there were something he should be aware of, could be, if he concentrated hard enough. The elusive measure of time ticked away at him like an uneven beat of fingers on a surface.  
  
He frowned and raked a hand through his hair in a gesture that seemed as familiar as breathing. As recognizable as the large, metal bound watch he had once worn, the casing molded from tempered silver, the clock face a smooth chip of mako that glowed. He drew out his arm and scrutinized the left wrist. It had been there. There was even the pale ghost of a mark where the skin underneath the band had been shielded from the sun. He wanted it back. Something tangible. He wanted a way to measure things, to give some kind of reality to this state he was in. How else was he to prove his existence? It could all be a dream, or worse yet, not even happening. Maybe just someone else's memory.  
  
How does a man explain himself? He mused. How do I know for sure that I am?  
  
Anger bubbled up inside, but with an ease borne of years of guarding his emotions, he pushed it back down. He was stuck somewhere, somewhen, for an unknown amount of time. Time was important, and he could feel it wasting away on someone else's prerogative. No one wasted his time. He had always set his life by the clock, and even in death…  
  
The notion startled him.  
  
Why had he thought that? If there were something to remember surely he would know about that. But then again, he did not know when or where he was. The how although…. It was beginning to make more sense. Provided that death was indeed the answer, and it was certainly seemed an option.  
  
He sat down again and scrubbed at his eyes with the back of his hand. Analyzing situations and their eventual, or possible, outcomes was something he considered himself an authority on. If he were indeed not alive, then being dead was just another factor to consider. If that were the case. Apparently something strange was going on, and he hadn't the means to work it out just yet. Best to start with the basics anyhow. One couldn't build a company on reputation alone, or an empire on guesses.  
  
He tried to rattle off the basics. Things to lend shape to man he was starting to recall. Names, age, lifestyle, family, etc, but it was like knowing how to operate a complicated piece of machinery and having no information to input to it. The inability to do something as simple as map out details irritated him. Why should he know with a certainty that he loathed cats, but not be able to write his own name in the sandy grit on which he sat? Was remembering that he had (or once had, seeing as he was possibly R. I. Pieces) a hidden bottle of Midgar's finest bourbon stashed in a secret compartment in his desk more important than the details of his own life? And of his death? Though he felt that he knew now with a certainty that this was the case. He had died, and rather messily at that.  
  
The memory stirred and sharpened as he forced himself to focus. It had been quiet in his sound proof office. Of the chaos outside he heard nothing. The faint swishing of a jacket on finely tailored slacks had been the only admission of a human presence as he crossed the room to look out the window. He remembered well his forehead and hand pressed against the cool glass, breath leaving a foggy impression right up until the point where it exploded in his face. He could feel the brief memory of pain at the white light that had seared his corneas before the end. Before the end of everything.  
  
He sighed, stood, and paced again because he needed the variety.  
  
"I never liked handguns. I have no use for things that only wound if you're not careful," he said aloud.  
  
"There is a machine in the fitness room on the 60th floor that if you kick hard enough, spits out power drinks."  
  
His brow furrowed in concentration.  
  
"There was a fat man in my employ that I meant to kill the following week. He was a useless toad that laughed like a horse."  
  
He smiled as more flickers of recognition bounced between his synapses.  
  
"There was a woman…" he fumbled for the name, "…Scarlet, who runs the weapons development section. She has a .22 snub revolver in her cleavage at all times, a metal spike strapped to her inner thigh, poison tipped hairpins, and a pair of stiletto heels that could bore a hole through a concrete wall."  
  
"If I didn't manage to kill her in the next month," he added with a sly smile, "I meant to give her a raise."  
  
The small circular track he walked around where he had been sitting grew wider as his memories sped up his feet.  
  
"There is a red-haired, loud mouthed, indolent, alcohol saturated Turk, who if he didn't do his job so well, or manage to avoid every would-be Turk I send to assassinate him, would be Hojo's pet for as long as he survived."  
  
Another recollection flashed up along with an almost audible click of something coming together. He made a mental note to really put in an effort to punish that man. The bourbon in his desk was indeed gone, and he thought he knew who had compromised it.  
  
p align="left"He blew strawberry blond bangs from out of his eyes with a breathy chuckle. There was yet another face he recalled, clear and distinct in his mind's eye. He also had a name to put to it that came without calling. The corner of his brain where he had stored pertinent and pending information drew up a list of persons he had labeled "Unexplained and Mostly Harmless", though for this man he might have to upgrade the second half to "Serious Liability".  
  
"Cloud Strife," he said slowly. "Do I have you to blame for this?"  
  
  
  
* * * * *  
  
  
  
In the medical examining room at the Junon base, Cloud found himself subject to more poking and prodding then he felt was necessary for what he considered 'cosmetic' damage. All the major wounds had been force healed by Reno's FullCure, and if one discounted barbed wire that was dangerously close to some delicate areas, he was perfectly capable of getting out of there on his own steam.  
  
The doctor in his turn had cast a low level Heal and Esuna combo aimed at cleaning up anything infected and sealing the bigger cuts. The rest he left to Cloud's own body and some well placed staples. It was better to let one heal naturally if a big spell didn't take care of it. Standard Army training in Mako warfare (his own knowledge he was sure) had included some rudimentary instruction on healing by magic. The doctor's treatment jived with the "High Level magic attacks used in sync mean bad mojo for you" breakdown of the military course. Apparently, using too many FullCure, Revive, and Esuna spells had telling effects on human physical makeup in the long run. Add in the attack spells used against you and, well, it could take some time to get over. Dementia was a common side effect, and he gathered that the doctor was being extra careful with a patient who had already enjoyed the drooling, crayon drawing phase of lunatics. The thought did little to cheer him.  
  
When the last of the wire had parted company with his backside he immediately shucked the hospital whites for his own pants, which did little to hide either knee nor said backside. A younger nurse had come in to retrieve the dressing gown and blushed as he handed it to her. The older nurse gave him a smile that would make many nights hard to sleep. And not in a good way.  
  
"Doctor," Cloud called.  
  
The man left whatever he was doing and returned to the bedside.  
  
"Will you be staying the night?" He wanted to know  
  
Cloud blanched. Even if the price weren't astronomical he wouldn't sleep here for all the Gold Chocobos wandering the planet. Instead he gave a polite dissent and paid for his bill without comment, although the Doctor seemed keen on discussing both Cloud's past and Reno's supposed future.  
  
"Are you sure the young man will be alright? We have extra beds here where we can keep him under strict observation." And in a straightjacket, was the almost audible suggestion.  
  
As tempting as the offer was, Cloud wasn't in any shape to haul Reno in for observation.  
  
"He'll be fine. He's a Turk."  
  
The Doctor's face, and Cloud had to give him credit, stayed smooth, but behind the eyes information was flying. Whatever the Turks had been or were, people still associated them with the worst kind of trouble. It was like a ticket to freedom. After mentioning Reno's association with clandestine group, Cloud received little resistance to leaving. With a warning about the care of his staples and various other ailments the doctor guided him gently, yet firmly to the door.  
  
Actually smiling for the first time in a long while, Cloud decided that Reno was good for something after all. Except that it was the same red- haired menace who had landed him there. And the same man who had saved his life. The conflicting thoughts were headache inducing and spoiled his mood. He left the hospital wing with a limp and scowl, clearing his path by virtue of expression alone.  
  
***********  
  
When Reno departed the premises, some time before Cloud, there was a bounce in his step and a cheerful air of one who knows that the drinks will be half-price. He had donuts. He had gil. And, there was a conspicuous absence of blond-haired, bitter, nutballs without a drop of humor. Well, agreeable humor anyhow. He could finally take a breather and assess the next course of action with food, a shower, and a pint of something to help him forget the nurse. Calling his real partners was another high up on the list of 'must do' things.  
  
The simple fact that Reno had a working plan, and was thinking ahead, might have come as a surprise to many. It was a trait that others would have found completely alien to the Turk, if one discounted the imminent drinking. Others who operated solely on his reputation as a loose cannon and a sloppy drunk. This was of course, a decoy, of the first order. Or at least the loose cannon part was.  
  
Turk guidebook, Rule #1, made it very clear that you were not to be who you were in either appearance or action. There were certainly a lot of ways to translate this, which of course embodied Rule #2. Be adaptive, or adapt the situation.  
  
Tseng, the former leader of the group, had been the most successful at this of any Turk to date. It was notoriously hard to rise to the rank of Turk in the first place, but to be its standing leader for more than 5 years was a record. Tseng had been one for 12, and Reno was his prodigy.  
  
The redhead, though never entirely comfortable at the double life required of Rule#1, was still heartily in favor of Rule#2. Adaptability, he learned from experience, was all. That was the rule he felt most likely to be the one to save your ass, because humans more than anything were unpredictable creatures. Take Cloud and co. for example. Coulda killed the guy straight off when they met. Coulda saved himself some irritation and broken bones. Tseng had seen something else though. He had made a point to let that damned AVALANCHE group get away time and time again, because somehow he knew. He knew that even a group of rejects could become strong enough to take on Sephiroth and save him precious personnel. The Turks weren't a numerous bunch, and Tseng was a careful planner in that respect.  
  
Reno also guessed, with much ire, that Tseng had probably measured the Turks' success rate against Sephiroth, and found them wanting.  
  
His own experience with unpredictable people was a little less noble and lot more embarrassing. As a personal reminder for himself he had explicitly added to the list; never underestimate the target, even if the intel tells you that said target is a 250lb man who hasn't exercised a day in his life and would have died anyway from a heart attack right down the road. It was disconcerting and just a bit awkward to find the tables turned because one didn't have the foresight to calculate that 250lbs of flesh can and will take 3 bullets, multiple shocks from a nightstick, a kitchen knife, a bar stool, one of those 1/35 Sephiroth statutes, and finally end with a bic pen to the jugular. After the mess that left, Reno had become one of the more dedicated students of Tseng's instruction on planning for all contingencies.  
  
  
  
The Turks though, by anyone's standards, were a different breed of chocobo. To really understand the function of their outfit, to even begin to put a face to the enemy, and they were the enemy, one had to stop missing the forest for the trees. Of course, this could be a challenge in itself as the whole point was to make understanding them difficult if not impossible.  
  
Reno would have been startled to know that Cloud had similar feelings about AVALANCHE, in respect to group work.  
  
  
  
Adolus P. Harper, one of the original group of 8 Turks sometime 60 years back, had wrestled with this problem and finally worked out, after three consecutive kills on their members, that they needed a change of tactics. The Turks' original mission statement had been to keep ears and eyes pinned on the varied factions of the ShinRa conglomerate for the head honcho, Shinra himself. While this worked out fine for the first couple of months, word got around to watch out for the watchers. The warning also emphasized how easy it was to dispatch of them entirely to save one's ass from being reported to the boss. Convenient and easy on the nerves, as legally the Turks were not supposed to even exist.  
  
Adolus mulled over this problem while mopping up after a fellow Turk. Though he wasn't exactly remorseful about the man's death, as he hadn't liked him to begin with, he did feel rather motivated to preserve his own bullet-free skin. Therefore, a new Rule of conduct was drafted, passed unanimously, and squeezed into place between Rules 3 and 4. This inclusion merely stated, "Carry a gun" and "Work in groups".  
  
Therefore, Turks by nature and training, worked best as a group. They were handpicked to operate as a unit capable of living together for months at a time, on a small cramped sub, with little privacy and no chance to get away. That was the staple of the diet; live together or die apart. They had learned it the hard way and meant to make the most of the lesson.  
  
Throughout their almost year long orientation, they were fed that fact of life relentlessly. For the surviving Turks this was an exception. They had never undergone the rigorous chore of having to know each other that well. Rude, the oldest of the three in both years and service, had been in a group with two unfortunates who had never quite recovered from the experience. Tseng had his own experience many years past. Reno had been snatched up from the SOLDIER ranks and had his training condensed to little more than a month, which hadn't included playing nice with others. Elena similarly had been recruited and promoted to replace an out of commission Reno. It had been a thin and deadly year for the organization. There were very few capable of the job, and even less willing to do it. They had who they had, and now there were only three. Or four, but Vincent Valentine wasn't on the payroll anymore.  
  
Tseng must have sensed their time was drawing short even as he trained the few remaining candidates himself. He had a 6th sense about these things. The quick promotions for Reno and Elena were the last desperate act of a leader trying to breathe life into his dying profession. But he had taught them, and done it well. They were a new and old breed of Turk, with new and old Rules they followed, and exemplified.  
  
As Reno reminisced he nearly missed the turn for the sublevel catwalk. Wheeling about he snaked his body through the narrow opening and began the decent down. Invisible sand crunched underfoot as he followed the circular path of the metal gangplank to the lower level shops and buildings. He was quite familiar with Junon, as the Turks frequented there often in preparation for missions that drew them away from Midgar. He almost liked the place he thought.  
  
The Lazarus Pit was a back alley bar perfect for private meetings. It was situated nicely between a munitions shop and an inn. Two places that Turks found invaluable when traveling. It was also a favorite hangout because there was a credit line for any ShinRa employee of proper rank. The Turks, whether for rank or reputation, ate free, and drank free.  
  
The proprietress of the establishment, one Jaz, no last name given, was a woman of singular talents. She ran the bar with one simple rule, one that no person in their right mind would challenge. It read, "No fighting on the premises". Jaz was former military, spoke softly and carried a very large gun.  
  
Reno sidled in through the front door, trying to pass under her radar while simultaneously signaling the barmaid. Both reacted to his presence with a drawing of weapons.  
  
"Well if it isn't our favorite customer."  
  
The Turk raised his free hand in a way that looked like a hello, but said he wasn't on duty, and therefore, not packing heat that he wouldn't turn over.  
  
Jaz kept both barrels steady on his chest while the barmaid patted him down and confiscated the Eagle, the nightstick, 2 out of 4 of his knives (she neglected to make him remove his boots), and pocketed the materia.  
  
"Traveling light I see."  
  
He tried his best smile. "It's been awhile Jaz."  
  
The woman smiled thinly. "That's because I said the next time I saw you in here I would take that head from your shoulders."  
  
Reno thought about offering a peace donut, but he didn't think it would make amends.  
  
The barmaid disappeared with the weapons, and returned a moment later with a small device which beeped and shot a red ray of light on his torso. Reno stood patiently as the device checked him for anything warmer than his own skin. The barmaid stopped at his boots and looked pointedly at Jaz. The owner shrugged and said,  
  
"You can keep those two, but if you take them out-" She drew a line over her own throat.  
  
Reno nodded. "So...why aren't you kicking me out?" He had obviously been accepted if they had taken his hardware and hadn't shown him immediately to the door. The hostility he expected. The last visit he had made to Junon had left a rather bad impression, and the money needed to cover the damages was enough to make Reeve dock his pay for a month. It was the easy entrance he worried about.  
  
Jaz's smile grew bemused, but she countered his question with another. "Did you think you could sneak in here? Dressed like that? As if the red hair wasn't enough of a giveaway."  
  
"Or smelling like that." The barmaid wrinkled her nose.  
  
Reno shrugged. "I had a bad run in with a snake. TURK business."  
  
Jaz didn't appreciate the implication. She pressed the rim of the barrels underneath his chin and tilted it up.  
  
"I don't care what business you're on Delaney. You bust up my bar again and not all the Presidents on the planet will get you another free pass. Do you understand me?" She growled.  
  
Reno gave his assurance as best he could. Not easy with a shotgun up your nose.  
  
Jaz dropped it and looked at him closely for the first time, noticing the more rumpled than usual state he was in.  
  
"Well, you're not sitting in my place like that. You can use the washroom out back, and if you give Mina your clothes I'm sure we can find a garbage can worthy enough."  
  
Reno snorted. "And what do you expect me to do? Run around naked?"  
  
Jaz raised a fine blond eyebrow. She motioned for Mina to return to work and drew closer to him. The gun was at ease now, but Reno was sure it was aimed at a foot.  
  
"You left an extra pair of clothes last time you came to visit me."  
  
"I did, did I?"  
  
She leaned forward and breathed lightly in his ear as she spoke. "Don't you remember? You promised you'd have occasion to need them when you returned."  
  
Reno's skin tingled as she rested a hand on his arm.  
  
"You promised to call me."  
  
The Turk, confused, but not unhopeful said,  
  
"I'm here now..."  
  
Jaz smiled sweetly and casually kneed him in the crotch.  
  
"The washroom is the second door on the left," she called over her shoulder as she left him. "Don't make a mess!"  
  
Reno gritted his teeth and walked mechanically to the back of the bar. There was just something wrong with the blonds in this world. Something really unfair.  
  
***********  
  
Since time, like so many things, didn't seem to work properly here, he took to keeping a mental count while fleshing out his memory. Every 1000th count got a line etched into the ground with the heel of a shiny, black boot. He currently had twelve lines, and was well on his way to another.  
  
What he had worked out thus far was that he had been a man of some importance, if a lot of people working for him, or the impression of wariness mingled with fear was any indication. In his definition of power, fear and caution were signs of status, and the people who had interacted with him, that he could remember, embodied both traits. Strangely, he didn't feel as much concerned about knowing his name as knowing what it meant to other people. Names were power as well. It was a signature of authority that opened doors and sealed plans without ever being uttered. Naming something gave it definition and identification, and he needed all these things.  
  
He thought, if I knew my name I would know what to do. It was important, because he had several names for other people and they needed to be dealt with.  
  
The many tangent thinking had lulled him into straight-backed stance, and he suddenly realized he had stopped counting the minutes. Furious at himself and the situation in general he kicked at the marks on the ground. The dust scattered, and took to the air in a brief cloud that dissipated within seconds. When it settled it looked exactly the same as it had before.  
  
The outburst of anger lasted even shorter. Now he had no marks, and was back at square one, with only the knowledge that some time had indeed past. And even then, no evidence. That was where emotion got you though. Backwards.  
  
Automatically he glanced at his wrist and was startled to see an iridescent circular cut of mako reflecting his astonishment. Then, just as suddenly it vanished, and reappeared, the hands frozen between 10:45 and 11. It vanished again a moment later, leaving him with the impression that it really didn't matter. It was not as if he could even remember coming here, so maybe time wasn't an issue. But…  
  
He brushed away the bangs absent-mindedly and thought hard about what had just happened. It wasn't difficult to narrow down the source, as there was little active around this place but him. It was his doing, but how? There was the puzzle. He had become angry, a rare emotion for him even though it had happened twice in this place. He had also wanted something tangible very badly, and gotten his watch a moment later. A specific action to reach a desired result. Something desired…  
  
And suddenly, it was there. Everything. Just there and open to him like the personnel files in his office. A genuine smile spread over his youthful face, but he let it flow smoothly into a look of practiced blankness. There would be time to celebrate later. He had to figure it all out. Had to find a way to get out, because he certainly desired that more than anything, and it hadn't happened as casually as his watch. There was a trick to every box, and this one was already part way open.  
  
******************  
  
Word from the author: Wow. Been such a long time since I updated this, but like every writer knows from personal experience, unfinished stories nag at you. I mean REALLY nag at you. Hope this earns me some peace of mind, and expect some serious strangeness in the next chapter. And Cloud dancing on a table. No, really. I did promise. Comments as always are the food I live on. Thanks. ^_^  
  
Also, I have made a section of my webpage exclusively for this story, whose title it 'Waking' there. It has all the revisions to earlier chapters, and the art I've done for it. Soon to come are psychoanalysis and the beginnings of the comic I've drawn up. Here's the addy, and just cut and paste it in as geocities can be a bastard about outside linking. http://www.geocities.com/flush_royal/Goggle/writing/Waking/index.html 


	8. Drinking Games

Note from the Author: Prepare for a long one, and just a little explanation before you begin. In regards to the way I address Mr. Strife, Cloud sir, and chocobo head, I just want to clarify my use of "ex-SOLDIER". This may be confusing to some because I have stressed a few times that Cloud was never in SOLDIER. He knows it, admits it, and still thinks of himself like it. That presence of mind hasn't left with all that's happened, so I continue to let himself to refer to his person as "ex-SOLDIER". Got it? Now grab a pillow because your ass will get numb before the end.  
  
  
  
Many Moons, by Moira  
  
Chapter 7, Drinking Games  
  
  
  
Never in his life had Cloud Strife felt as unprepared for the future as he did now. His earlier days in AVALANCHE hadn't exactly been rife with difficult decisions. He had done it for the money, and that had been that. Things had been marked by a certain distance, and he hadn't encouraged more, but the end of the world had a way of changing people. Or at least altering the way they saw things. Aeris had taught him that, as had every one of his friends.  
  
He had found it easier to function within a set realm of small alternatives. Like leadership or direction. Content to let Barrett make the orders and Tifa to give him a track to follow, like a good little mercenary. In those days things had been almost absurdly simple. It was as if the memories of his emotions or thoughts were only two-dimensional. Though, of course, Cloud Strife had enough large gaping holes in his memory to ride the Highwind through with Cait Sith at the helm.  
  
Five years were still gone. Five years where all he remembered with any certainty was a dark-haired man with bright blue eyes talking him out of darkness time and time again. Those whispered, practically one-sided conversations had been a lifeline, his hope. Zax and his unfaltering optimism.  
  
And now? Now when he finally had time to explore his past more thoroughly and put things in order, he found that he was reluctant. And afraid. Afraid of knowing. Zax would be angry if he knew. He had always told Cloud that understanding wasn't the hardest part, it was accepting and then acting true to yourself. Only now that he was beginning to understand he didn't want to go further. He had a bad feeling about himself and his past. The worry sat in his stomach like a wet stone; sides being rubbed smooth till it had no shape, no definition.  
  
Reno's little insight after the Zolom fight had bothered the hell out of him too. He didn't want to admit it, but it spooked him. Not the snide opinion of his leadership style, as if that Turk had any rights to pass judgment, but the last part.  
  
/"...there's no rest for us huh? Some of us just like to fight. Am I right?"/  
  
For someone doubting his own character in the wake of peace it was a dry morsel to swallow. Though why he might have anything in common with the redhead seemed just as fathomless as the sea.  
  
"Asshole." Cloud grated through a tightly clenched jaw. "What do you know?"  
  
He limped steadily on through the broad main street of Junon, hand trailing over the steel railing that protected against a hundred foot drop to the sea. The sun was brilliant overhead and it warmed his skin even through the leather shoulder gear he wore. He met no resistance on the street in spite of the fine weather though. People weren't exactly numerous today, but one look at his face sent many on their business with a quicker step and out of the blond ex-SOLDIER's way. As it were that suited him fine. He wasn't planning on being sociable until after a shower, some food, and a little self-medication in the form of alcohol anyway.  
  
The leg ached something awful as he crossed the avenue and moved past the upper-level street shops. He gave the buildings a cursory look and walked gingerly to a narrow opening that he knew led to the lower levels. As he passed through he had to adjust his sword into an upright position lest it scrape along the bricks.  
  
Down a set of stairs, over a catwalk and then another spiraling flight of steps until he was on the second level of Junon city. He paused there at the bottom and wiped a sudden outbreak of perspiration off his brow. Most of his hair still pointed skyward with a stubborn tenacity, but the bangs were matted to his forehead and got in his eyes. Pulling off a glove he tucked the ends carefully behind his ears and made a mental note to have Tifa cut them when he returned. She had to cut his hair regularly as it threatened to grow feet within a few months time, and she seemed to enjoy it. At least she did a better job of it than he. Cloud wasn't so particular to style (as if he could get it to do anything but stick straight up anyway) that he was against taking a knife to it on occasion. She /really/ didn't like that.  
  
With a shake of the head and another adjustment to the sword, Cloud limped to the front of a non-descript building with green shutters. He could almost see the metal beams crisscrossing underneath the plaster, acting like a fallout support. All buildings in Junon were reinforced with steel frames, and it was because of the city's structural design that Weapon's attack hadn't collapsed the whole town. Only the casing of the gun platform and Sister Ray cannon had been damaged. Plenty of death to go around anyway, but it could have been worse. It could have been like Midgar.  
  
Cloud frowned as he took in the buildings on either side of the Inn. He could see the bar Reno had indicated to the left. It was a squat establishment shaped roughly like a horseshoe. There were two levels, but lights were only on below. The sign, lettered with silver on matte black read, 'Lazarus Pit'. In and out of the swinging doors people came like a parade of brightly colored birds, each outfit more eye watering than the next.  
  
The shop to the right sold ammunition. Cloud had been there before, or so he thought. It had three levels, though the shop seemed only to occupy the ground floor. He would need to stop there later to ask about the latest artillery and explosives. While he didn't use guns very often, Barrett had sent him with a list and a mail order for the supplies to be shipped to North Corel. The big black man had requested ammunition, another drill arm, and dynamite to help with the renovation of his hometown. Seemed like Meteor had at least been good for the construction business.  
  
Tearing his eyes away from a bar customer wearing a garish orange pantsuit that screamed for an early death, Cloud proceeded to the inn grimly. He passed through the front doors and thought he heard a series of faint clicks like tumblers in a lock. Muttering a long string of commands under his breath he continued in. Ignoring what he took to be a security check system similar to the kind Midgar had used for the trains, Cloud approached desk located at the rear of the lobby. Desk or armored cube, he really couldn't decide. It was a dark blue metal counter, jointed into an L-shape that enclosed the man within like a fortress. Huge squares of what was probably bulletproof glass rose from counter-top to ceiling. There was a small revolving circle beneath a half moon cut into the barrier, and also a cred machine worked into the structure. No paintings or decorations adorned the gray walls, but a small potted plant (also inside the barrier) rested on a corner of the desk. All very neat and functional. He didn't like it.  
  
As he studied the imposing structure he also saw a small sticker, peeling and shiny, stuck to the outside. Even with his enhanced vision it was difficult to read, but if he squinted just so…  
  
"Smile," it read. "Because if you can read this then you're in range of some really nasty hardware."  
  
Cloud was sure Barrett would have appreciated the sentiment if not the actual weaponry aimed at his person. Ignoring the faint whirl of machinery that followed him as he walked to the desk Cloud put a gloved hand to the glass and tapped.  
  
"I'd like a room for the night."  
  
The man behind the counter drew his attention away from a magazine and peered at him through watery blue eyes. He was unshaven, pale as a fish belly, and looked about as interested in customers as only the truly bored can. He stared openly at Cloud, the eyes getting more opaque as they noticed the shredded clothing, dirty countenance and obvious lack of anything worth anything.  
  
"We don't do handouts," he said finally.  
  
Cloud sucked in an angry breath.  
  
"I didn't ask for a handout I want a room."  
  
The pale blue eyes flicked back to the magazine. "We're full."  
  
"Bullshit! What is this? Do you always give customers a hard time?"  
  
The man turned away. "You're not a customer. Go back to whatever hole you slept in last night."  
  
Cloud made a mental count to ten and then fished out a handful of gil. "I have enough for three nights here. I only want one."  
  
The man behind the counter had picked up his magazine and was reading again. He turned the page, and then another. Cloud was clearly dismissed.  
  
"Alright," Cloud said, his voice low and calm. "Maybe I can make my point another way."  
  
The man didn't look up, but the blue eyes stopped moving over the article.  
  
"If you're thinking of threatening me then you're really off your chocobo. This glass is bulletproof, casting proof, and can't be opened without a key. Someone is also aiming a lot of guns at you as we speak."  
  
Cloud smiled a little smile.  
  
The man turned away and began picking something out of his teeth, completely unconcerned. There was a soft 'whump' as a bag was set down. A methodical 'click' 'click' 'click' of a harness being removed. The sound of teeth setting into a particularly hard smile and then air being cut as a massive piece of weaponry traveled at high speeds towards the frontmost window  
  
/'TINK'/  
  
Bemused the man turned around at the sound, turned and saw about a foot of tempered metal just inches from his collar bone. He stopped in his quest to remove a piece of lettuce from between his front teeth and stared hard. From behind the glass on the business side, Cloud was braced at a right angle, his gloved hands tight on the handle. Multicolored stones gleamed under the fluorescent light.  
  
"You see those two pink ones at the end of the handle?" He asked the man, indicating the rearmost material.  
  
A nod was the tense reply.  
  
"Those two enhance my strength and up my HP. This one," he said indicating a yellow orb a bit further up, "Let's me do what I'm going to do next."  
  
The man gave another nod, his cheek twitching slightly as he took an uneven breath.  
  
"But it's wedged! You can't go in any farther! You can't reach me!"  
  
Cloud, mako eyes brilliant under wild hair, only smirked.  
  
"Who said I was aiming for you?"  
  
The ex-SOLDIER gave a sharp twist of the handle and the edge of the blade snapped 180 degrees as the Double Cut material flared brightly. Glass shattered under the movement in a short but thunderous tide. It collapsed all four sides of the office barrier and the small space filled with the pieces. Withdrawing his sword Cloud got up on his toes and leaned over the edge.  
  
"Now I can reach you."  
  
The man was crouched on the floor, hands clapped over his ears. He looked up at the sword resting casually over one armored shoulder and took a moment to consider life. It seemed he was rather attached to it. His hand edged out under Cloud's watchful eyes and punched a knob on one of the cabinet shelves. The door popped open and when his hand retracted from inside it had a key.  
  
"Was that so hard?" Cloud asked.  
  
"Perhaps you had better just back off kid," a voice said from behind. There was a 'click'.  
  
Cloud turned his head slightly.  
  
"Manager? SOLDIER?" He asked of the man who had suddenly appeared next to him, the barrel of a shotgun aimed slightly over one ear. From his peripheral vision he could only make out the barrel and two fingers. Cloud raised his empty hand and backed slowly away from the desk.  
  
There was a grunt that sounded somewhere between incredulity and amusement. Cloud repeated his question.  
  
"Owner," a man's voice replied, deep like a bass instrument. "And ex- SOLDIER. 2nd class."  
  
Cloud almost nodded but remained still.  
  
"And you? I don't know you, but something tells me you are not just a vandal and a hothead. Turn around and let me see your face."  
  
So he did, and in turn saw a large man, deep-chested with ropes of muscle still cording his arms despite his age, which Cloud guessed to be mid- fifties. Salt and pepper hair was thick and cut above the ears. The man had a large handle bar mustache and light brown eyes. He frowned as he studied Cloud. Cloud supposed he didn't paint a very pretty picture.  
  
The big man looked him up and down, sucking on piano key sized front teeth as he thought.  
  
"You're eyes say you're SOLDIER," he said finally. "But no SOLDIER uses a sword."  
  
"It's been known to happen," Cloud replied, thinking of the Buster sword's original owner.  
  
"Not unless you're Sephiroth, and since you seem about nine inches too short and haven't killed me yet I think it's safe to say you're not."  
  
Cloud quirked a blond eyebrow at him and looked pointedly at the gun.  
  
"That's not standard issue either."  
  
The man beamed and the mustache ends quivered as if he'd been waiting his whole life for someone to notice.  
  
"Had it special ordered from Midgar two years ago before Meteor."  
  
Cloud clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth.  
  
"Looks like it has kick."  
  
"Like a bitch, but I ordered it that way."  
  
"Range about two hundred yards?"  
  
"Two-Fifty."  
  
"Bet the additional two loaders, scatter shot option and grenade launcher cost you a fortune."  
  
The man grinned again like a boy on holiday.  
  
"Damn straight it did. You haven't even commented on the materia slots."  
  
"Materia adage on firearms can cause jams. Especially with any castings over level 2."  
  
The large mustache twitched.  
  
"That's why I only installed Independent materia. HP and Pre-emptive. And that's how I got the drop on you. Were you surprised?"  
  
Cloud smiled faintly and gestured with his empty hand at the material slots on the shotgun. The usually bright orbs were duller somehow, like a light shaded by cloth. The man frowned at the weapon.  
  
"What did you…?"  
  
The blond inclined his head towards the Crystal bangle on his wrist. The bracelet had three stones embedded in it.  
  
"Actually, you got the drop on me because I just wasn't paying attention. The bases are still covered though."  
  
"But I'm here now, even if my materia didn't work."  
  
Cloud shook his head. "I cast 'Contain' right after I got in here. My own pre-emptive would have cancelled yours out anyway, but I think the Added Effect of Lightning is going to cause you the most problems."  
  
To Cloud's surprise the man burst out laughing, the broad shoulders shaking with the booming guffaws.  
  
"You sly bastard! Who are you boy? Better yet, what rank are you? First class?"  
  
Something dark flitted across Cloud's eyes.  
  
"No," he said at length as the laughter died away to chuckles. "No. I was never in SOLDIER."  
  
Light brown eyes showed surprise and not just a little suspicion.  
  
"Well, there's no way you're Wutainese. Not with those blue eyes and that hair of yours. Maybe part chocobo with that mop, but if you didn't learn it from them then you have to be ShinRa trained. What's your rank boy? I may be old but I'm not stupid."  
  
The blond sighed and lowered his hands. He walked back over to his bag and picked up the harness. Reassembling the straps across his shoulders and back, he sheathed the sword and picked up the knapsack. Walking back to the counter he leaned over and plucked the keys from the clerk's outstretched hand. The man still hadn't moved from his crouched position, but the watery eyes took turns peering over the counter and darting to a door in the back. Cloud gave a derisive snort and withdrew, his path taking him back to the owner.  
  
The owner, shotgun now pointing south and cradled in the crook of one elbow watched him without comment.  
  
"I'm sorry about the mess," Cloud said apologetically.  
  
"I was the one handling the outside guns," the owner said. "The security cameras gave me a pretty good idea who's fault it was. It'll be coming out of his salary," he added, indicating the retreating form of the clerk who was furtively exiting through the door he had been eyeing earlier.  
  
"But young man, you WILL curb your temper while in my inn. Do you understand me?"  
  
"Yes sir."  
  
"And son,"  
  
Cloud paused.  
  
"What's your name? I'm called Barson."  
  
"Cloud. Cloud Strife."  
  
The big man nodded. "Cloud Strife it is. I'll be sending up fresh towels along with something to eat. You look like you could use it."  
  
Cloud grimaced. "Any chance you have a sewing kit handy as well?"  
  
"Sure thing."  
  
"I appreciate it."  
  
"Just pay your bill and keep that sword in its holder and we won't have any misunderstandings."  
  
"Got it," Cloud said and picked his way gingerly through the littered glass to the lift. The man watched him go and when the shape of the big sword had retreated from sight he blew a relieved breath that ruffled his mustache.  
  
"Well then. What to do about this?" He said aloud, though it wasn't clear whether or not he was talking about the mess or mako-eyed disasters.  
  
*************  
  
Hot water beat against his face and streamed down into ears as he tilted his head back to let the moisture hit him full on. Through the closed lids of his eyes he could see a soft nimbus of light like a halo and underneath his hands square shaped tiles made grooved impressions into the skin. Ducking his head he braced both palms on the wall in front and let the liquid wash the dried blood from his back and take off everything Zolom related with it. It felt so good to be clean. With a toss of the head the wet tail of red hair flipped over a shoulder, the end so saturated with water that the color was like fresh blood replacing what he had rinsed off. He pressed his forehead against the tiles and stayed that way for a long time.  
  
"I don't want to be here," he murmured.  
  
"Then where else?" said a familiar voice.  
  
Reno sighed. "I don't know."  
  
"Why not?"  
  
"Because I don't know!"  
  
"S'not like you to be so uncertain."  
  
"Things have changed."  
  
"You never woulda swallowed an order from anyone else before you gave up the spot. Never woulda put up with a guy like /him/."  
  
"He's going the same way I am."  
  
"Like in the head?"  
  
"…"  
  
"Where's your pride Reno?"  
  
"I left it in Midgar."  
  
"Where we are."  
  
"Yes," Reno said softly, touching the scar on his cheek. "Where you both are."  
  
* * * * * * * *  
  
Upon locating his room on the second floor Cloud took little time to dump his belongings on the small single bed. He sat on the edge, massaging the knot in the small of his back and inspecting bandages. They itched like crazy under the gauze, but that was a good sign. It meant they were healing. He smiled thinly. With the cells in his body from JENOVA and the SOLDIER make-up, he was a quick healer indeed.  
  
Just as he was beginning to stand up a small knock at the door told him the towels and food were here. He accepted two fluffy green towels, a covered plate, and a small sewing kit from a young porter. Cloud gave him some gil and the boy palmed it without comment. Returning to his bedside Cloud reflected that he hadn't eaten in almost 24 hours (a body couldn't really count Zolom now could they?) and he was starving. With a glance at the plate and then the bathroom door he knew a shower would have to come first. He could hardly stand the smell of himself.  
  
One of the fluffy towels tucked under his arm he stepped into an economical bathroom with a small shower and blue mats. With the toilet tucked unobtrusively in one corner, a stall unit shower and a sink with a square mirror, it was a wonder that guests larger than himself could fit at all. Barrett certainly would have problems and even Vincent at 6'2" would find the accommodations somewhat coffin like.  
  
"And he might like that," Cloud reflected with a thoughtful incline of the head. His teammates were always on his mind in one way or another these days. He folded the towels on the toilet (hooks were apparently not part of the room deal) and stripped bare of his ravaged outfit. In some places he had to peel it forcibly off his skin because of blood, maybe his, maybe the Zolom's. Rips and tears made a map of damage on the purple turtleneck and pants that he wasn't sure he could fix himself. Maybe he would send it to Tifa and see what she could do, or get a shopkeeper to repair it. Those garments had been bequeathed to him by someone dear and he meant to hold onto every scrap.  
  
From behind the closed door he heard his PHS ringing. Thinking it might be Reno he padded out of the bathroom in his skin, bare feet silent on the wood floor.  
  
"Cloud here."  
  
"Hiya Spike, how's it going?"  
  
"Yuffie?" He was surprised. Why on earth would she be calling him? If this was another crank call…  
  
"Not happy to hear from me?" Her voice sounded petulant, but not as downright whiny as it had when they first met. She had changed over the past year. He had seen her last summer when AVALANCHE members had met up for dinner and a reunion. She was a little taller now, though below his height still. Her hair had also been allowed to grow out from the short bob she normally kept in, though most times she wore it up anyway. As for habits, Cloud still kept his materia in a secure place when near her sticky fingers. He opened his mouth to reply, but she cut him off.  
  
"Guess what?"  
  
Cloud hesitated, not liking the conspiratorial tone.  
  
"What," he asked warily.  
  
"I can see you!" She said gleefully.  
  
If Cloud's enemies thought his attacks were fast, his ability to wrap himself in bedcovers was nothing short of inhuman.  
  
"Yuffie!" He hissed. "What are you doing?!"  
  
She laughed so loud Cloud thought the transceiver would break.  
  
"A joke! A joke! I'm in Wutai idiot. What are you doing that I shouldn't see?"  
  
His face underwent a change of about six shades of red.  
  
"Never you mind brat. What do you want anyway?"  
  
"Jeez…I was just calling to say hi."  
  
"Riiiiight. What else Yuffie?"  
  
There was a pause on the other end of the line as Yuffie thought about how best to drop the bomb. She decided on,  
  
"Wutai is going to war."  
  
Cloud gaped and the bedcovers slipped over his shoulders. "What?!"  
  
The ninja girl's answer came across as a high-pitched babble with no pauses to separate words.  
  
"WellyouseebecauseMidgarisinsuchbadshapeandShinRaisgonemyfatherthinksit'sbes ttomovenowandcrushtheremains. Andsinceyou'refriendswithReeveandaresortstheleaderIthoughtyoumighttalktomyda d…"  
  
It took a few minutes to translate and process the information. AVALANCHE's leader flopped back onto the bed.  
  
"Yuffie…This is a really bad time. And what do mean 'I'm the leader'? AVALANCHE isn't any sort of government and I'm not in charge anymore."  
  
"Well, you beat Sephiroth. I guess that makes you the general."  
  
"What?! I'm not the general of anything, and why don't /you/ go talk to your father?"  
  
Yuffie took a minute to answer.  
  
"He expects me to help him to lead them. I'm going to be the next ruler of Wutai. I have to think of their interests."  
  
Cloud pinched the bridge of his nose as a familiar headache began returning and fought off the urge to grind his teeth.  
  
"Listen to me Yuffie. You need to make a decision here. Do you really think this war is the right thing? Midgar is a city in pieces. Any leftover SOLDIERs, basic troops or ShinRa personnel aren't going to be hanging out waiting for orders. Reeve can't even keep the power running on a regular schedule. Attacking Midgar is like flogging a dead chocobo. It's pointless. Rufus is dead and there is no ShinRa left to tell anyone what to do."  
  
"Then you don't know about the plants?"  
  
"What?"  
  
"Three of them are going again."  
  
Cloud sat upright, knuckles white against the black plastic of the PHS.  
  
"Impossible. They were all shut down months ago. When did this happen? Who restarted them?!"  
  
"Whoa whoa! It was only a few days ago. And no one as far as we can tell for two of them. They just up and began pouring mako energy into the batteries. The latest one though is definitely ShinRa."  
  
"How? Reeve would never."  
  
"We've had reports of SOLDIER activity and that woman from the weapons division is there."  
  
"Scarlett?"  
  
"Yeah that's the bitch." Yuffie also muttered something that Cloud couldn't quite make out, but it sounded distinctly like "whore".  
  
He bit his lip. "I'm kinda in the middle of something right now, but I could check out that plant on my way back…"  
  
"What are you doing now? Does this mean you won't talk to my dad?"  
  
"I'm on my way to Nibelheim with a Turk in tow. There's something I have to get from the mansion."  
  
"Are you going with Reno?!" She squealed.  
  
"…yes. He's on business for Reeve there."  
  
She howled with laughter and Cloud entertained himself with thoughts of violence against small ninjas.  
  
"Wait," she said, a bit breathless. "What about my dad? He wants to move soon."  
  
"Tell Godo that I'm going to check it out after Nibelheim. Tell him I'm going to need at least a week."  
  
"I can't! He expects me to-"  
  
"Yuffie," Cloud growled. "You need to do what you believe in and tell him what you think. You've never had problems talking back to him before."  
  
"That's because I never noticed how old he's getting. Cloud…I'll have to take over soon. I don't want to, but I do…"  
  
"Then you need to establish now what you intend to do with your rule. You do that and you get me one week before Wutai moves. Even if you can't sway Godo you get me that one week!"  
  
There was silence on the other end of the line, but she came back on with a little more bite to her voice.  
  
"One week Cloud Strife! I expect you here in one week!"  
  
"Right. Right. I have to go Yuffie, but tell me, what plants are operational?"  
  
"Um…Condor is running, and so is Mideel's mako spring. The one we have reports of ShinRa at is the plant at Gongaga."  
  
Cloud's mouth dried slightly. He swallowed painfully and asked Yuffie for Godo's private number in case he had to call.  
  
"Be sure of yourself Yuffie," he told her.  
  
"And you get your spikey butt here in time! Oh, and tell Reno I said hi. Good luck on whatever it is you're doing."  
  
Cloud snorted.  
  
"And, hey, Cloud?"  
  
"Yeah?"  
  
"I was only kidding. I'm not in Wutai, I'm close enough to throw the Conformer at you!"  
  
He dove back into the covers and yelled, "Yuffie!"  
  
She hung up with a laugh.  
  
**************  
  
Fresh off his epiphany Rufus took off across the wasteland that served as his here and now. There were no guideposts or any defining landmarks yet, but he headed unerringly in a straight line towards what he had designated 'north'. There was a pulling sort of sensation from that direction that told him he was nearing something, and it grew stronger and stronger as he walked on.  
  
The second attempt at 'recalling' something earned him a slight headache and his watch back. He focused on the face of the mako powered instrument and concentrated hard. The hands moved to 12 o'clock and from that point on began ticking off the seconds, and then minutes and finally hours as he walked. As the hands approached three he began to notice changes in the landscape. Rocky outcroppings began to appear in piles as well as other debris. The more distance he traveled, the more heaps of wreckage became visible. It was as if a great city had stood there once and all that remained were fragments of ancient buildings. The ache in his legs and jaw from clenching were more evidence that this was no dream.  
  
This new land, not entirely unlike the previous muted territory excepting physical obstructions, was similarly bland in terms of color and variety. The crumbled shape of derelict buildings grew larger and actual edifices stood here and there. He quickly withdrew into alcoved areas, not sure about inhabitants, or the gut feeling that was telling him to remain out of sight. In and out of fallen walls and roofless structures he moved on. Ahead of him, in the general direction he had been heading, was an impossibly long stretch of gutted edifices, like those he passed through now. It was as if the designer of this world had only two ideas, neither good, and was colorblind. At times though, he also thought they seemed vaguely reminiscent of places he had seen or visited, but unless the world had been reduced to dust by Meteor and collected here, he didn't think it a possibility. In fact, one of the things he was certain of, was that Meteor had been averted. Wherever he was now had no bearing on the real world.  
  
Just as that thought crossed his mind he saw a flicker of movement and then it was gone. He paused and waited, but it didn't show itself. Cautiously he backtracked out of the building and went another way around. Edging along a fairly high portion of wall he made it to a window that looked out over an open area with only knee-high rubble. He got up right next to the sill and without exposing his head looked out as far as possible in his peripheral vision. There was movement again, but this time he saw it was a woman. Only, this woman was taller than most men, had luminescent eyes and pulsated with green. He whipped back behind the relative safety of the wall. He felt…? He felt so cold for a second that he thought his heart would become brittle and break. Who was she? What was she?  
  
A sound, like quickly moving footsteps sounded somewhere ahead and to the left, which was into the courtyard where the woman had been. He risked another peek through the window and saw a man this time, sweaty and gray. The man was dressed like an office clerk, similar to one of the hundreds of employees he had once had working for him in Midgar. His breath was uneven and the look in his eyes was confused. Short brown hair was matted to his forehead and the cuff of one sleeve was missing, as was the arm…  
  
Rufus sucked in air through clenched teeth as the wave of cold hit him again. The woman had come back into view and the man was looking at her with a mixture of fear and hope.  
  
"You're alive!" The man said. "Oh, you have to help me…my arm…I can't find my arm…"  
  
"Alive? No, not that." He thought he heard her say.  
  
The woman walked towards the man slowly, her face breaking into a sorrowful expression, eyes narrow with emotion. Her black hair hung low to her back and swayed as she glided to him on what Rufus saw were bare feet.  
  
"I can't help you with that," she intoned in a low voice. "I can't repair the damage." She drew up her arms as if to ward off the cold that Rufus felt seeping into his skin like a wet vise. The man ran up to meet her halfway and clutched her shoulder with his remaining hand.  
  
"It took my arm!" he moaned. "It took my arm and I can't find it."  
  
The woman, instead of backing away in revulsion drew the man in close and pressed his head into her shoulder.  
  
"I know. I'm sorry. We don't know what they are, and we cannot seem to send them back. But you, you should not be here either."  
  
"Where am I?" He cried. "Where is here?! I woke up and I was, I mean…these things…"  
  
"Hush," the woman commanded. "We are trying our best to send people back, but something is wrong. There is something blocking the way. The planet will not listen!"  
  
She closed her eyes and began incredibly to hum. Rufus watched as she seemed to concentrate. The atmosphere grew thick with dryness and a pressing force that reminded Rufus of a Gravity spell. He choked as the air grew solid around him and slid down the wall until he was sitting. Buildings seemed to shimmer into view like a distorted reflection. The woman tilted her head back and called out something in a language that was not quite speech. Something seemed to answer but it was similarly distorted. She cried out again in frustration and the air thundered with the effort. Both the man and the woman vanished in a haze of cold wind. Rufus remained sitting and shivering into the collar of his white jacket.  
  
After some time had passed he got back to his feet and leaned heavily against the wall. The raw speculation on his new non-life had just been thrown into a whole new set of variables. Between dying and ending up here, he reflected, there had hardly been a pause. Not something one could readily identify anyway. He had no recollection of white light or hellish fire, but there was a distinct impression a green similar to the woman's eyes. As colors did little to serve for memories though, he moved on to the fact that despite being dead he had quite a few things to work with. One, he could do something with the material here. His watch had been an effort, but he thought with a little more practice he might even produce a car in the end. Two, he had a direction. Albeit, he had no idea where it was that he was heading, he just knew it was somewhere important. Three, he now knew that there were others here. Of the woman he could only speculate, but the man had definitely been human. A normal human being. With his arm gone… And so creatures then. Or something hostile. He thought back to the movement he had spied earlier and wondered if it had been the woman or the man. Somehow he didn't think so. It was time to find somewhere to rest and work some things out.  
  
He walked around for another half hour doing his best to stay out of sight and make as little noise possible. The man's missing arm kept coming back into his thoughts with such a strong insistence that he knew he wouldn't feel safe until he managed to 'think' up his shotgun. Or at least pick up a few rocks to throw. He scoured the area until he had an armful of fist sized chunks of what appeared to be marble and took them to a building he had found with three intact levels. Climbing up was a chore with the rocks, but he removed his jacket and wrapped them with that, securing the bundle to his back with the sleeves and coat tails. Once he was on the highest floor he had a commanding view of the land and knew that if anything moved within his immediate area he would be able to see it and have time to do something about it.  
  
Squirreled away in his chosen corner he methodically stacked up the stones until he had ammunition within easy reach. When there was nothing left to arrange and he had a capable defense he used one sleeve of his jacket to scrub the dust from his brow and wiped both hands clean. He also took the time to clean under each fingernail and scrub through his hair once or twice. With a close eye on the open space left uncovered in his shelter he stood and stretched, and let his mind wander, scrutinizing the short passage of time for anything that might help. What he got instead were unbidden memories that rose like a flock of birds, unorganized and unstoppable once they took flight. His blue eyes grew opaque as he looked back on things that had been.  
  
…A boy, slight and quiet stood at a window, watching as gouts of smoke and soot scudded across Midgar's skyline, staining the buildings they passed and smudging the windows with grease. He pressed his face to his own window and breathed against the pane of glass. Moist air blossomed out into a splotch roughly the size of his head. The boy continued to exhale even as he began to draw with a long finger. A square took shape within the blob, and then another, and another. Inside one another the squares became miniature windows that decreased in size until the innermost could frame nothing but reflected the boy. He drew back and absently rubbed his shoulders as if trying to comfort himself. Studying his handiwork he felt grimly satisfied, because as he had thought, there was little to see. Turning away he left the mini windows to melt into each other as they evaporated, coalescing into one head-sized mirror before it was gone altogether. His retreating back was a hazy ghost of white, almost indistinguishable from the walls and the furniture.  
  
In the next memory the boy was older now, his red-blond hair trimmed neatly to the nape of a slender neck. Medium length bangs brushed against his eyelashes. He swept them away with the back of one hand and surveyed the meeting room. Every head of department was there, with secretaries in tow and nervous looking clerks handling thick stacks of files. His father sat impassively at the head of the table, one arm bridged under his wide face and mass of chins. He too was watchful and his brown eyes darted from face to face as they entered. Rufus followed suit and went over their names and histories as dispassionately as a machine.  
  
Heidigger was an obscenely obese man. He was tidily dressed though. Surprise there. Sweat beaded on his brow and the rubbery lips pressed together in discomfort. Here was someone who didn't want to be there.  
  
"Well that makes two of us," Rufus had thought blandly.  
  
The head of the Resource Department came next. Reeve was possibly the youngest of the group. At thirty he was an average looking man with intelligent brown eyes. There was a quality about him that bothered Rufus greatly, but he couldn't put a name to it. The head of the Resource Department seemed about as misplaced as a chess piece in a game of stones. His father trusted Reeve implacably. This he knew, and therefore did not trust the man one bit.  
  
Scarlett then entered languidly and with all the time in the world. Today she was wearing a dark blue Wutainese dress, with a silver phoenix trailing feathers up her thigh. Stiletto heels made her inches taller than any man in the room, and there were lacquered pins holding up her dyed hair. Rufus thought he recognized the hair accessories from a weapons catalogue the office had put out a few weeks previous. Despite her false exterior, and perfectly clipped language, Rufus felt that at least she, out of the whole bunch was worth keeping. Perhaps because he held absolutely no interest in her physical appearance, he recognized the intelligence, or at least necessity of her act. He knew a lot about the people his father had hired and Scarlett had the qualities he was looking for in someone to head up a project he had in mind. A project that might be insurance one day. Insurance against fools and fate…  
  
The memory faded and he came back to himself. Slowly, deliberately, Rufus opened his eyes and looked around the bleak space that served the reality of now.  
  
"It's not the way I pictured Hell at all," he muttered.  
  
It was a funny thing, that. He had no doubts about where he would end up. Hell was just one more appointment in his weekly planner. At one point, on a very trying day, he even had his secretary mark 'Hell' as his final board meeting. He doubted she appreciated the irony of it because that very afternoon /had/ marked his last meeting. He remembered looking out the window as the vortex of energy from Diamond Weapon shot towards the heart of an empire; recalled the feel of the glass as he placed a hand against it and waited for the end. White light, then blue, and then nothing. He could only recollect at that point that he had not been afraid, or regretful. Just disappointed that it should end so predictably, and simultaneously pleased with himself for planning ahead. Death wasn't something Rufus ShinRa was ready to bow before. Not yet, not yet.  
  
*******************  
  
Reno stepped out of the shower and into a fresh suit thoughtfully provided by Mina, who gave him an appraising look as he stood defenseless in a towel. He dressed quickly and yanked his hair back into its customary tail. Sunglasses hid the shadows underneath his eyes and he reentered the bar feeling about half alive, half dead from lack of sleep and running.  
  
Jaz was manning the bar by herself, literally tossing drinks at people who pushed her too far. She saw him and gestured to an empty table in one corner. He sat back against the wall and watched the crowd until Mina reappeared with a plate of food. It was plain, but filling, and it took the edge off of his shakes. He ordered a drink and pulled the PHS from his pocket.  
  
It took almost twelve rings for Strife to pick up his end. When he actually spoke the first thing he did was yell,  
  
"Yuffie! Stop calling or I'm going to take the Conformer and shove it so far up-"  
  
Reno bellowed into the receiver overriding whatever the blond had been about to finish saying.  
  
"Hey Strife. If you and your girlfriend want to talk dirty then fucking TALK TO HER!"  
  
Reno clicked off the PHS and fished out a cigarette. This was going to be a pleasant evening. He could already tell.  
  
The PHS rang. Reno snapped it up.  
  
"This is 1-800-Not-Your-Fucking-Girlfriend so get it right."  
  
The pause on the other was heavy with deliberation.  
  
"Reno… What the hell have you been drinking?" Rude's deep voice asked, concerned.  
  
"Aw Shiva," Reno pressed a hand to his forehead and rocked back in the chair. "Sorry man. Thought you were someone else."  
  
Rude's lack of reply to this made Reno bite the end of his cigarette off.  
  
"So, where are you guys?"  
  
Rude's voice came in with a background of static. "We're at Gold Saucer right now. We still have to get up to Glacier Town, but the chopper isn't going to be able to pass the high winds once we get to Bone Village. We're taking chocobos the rest of the way from there. Reeve called to say he wanted us to drop off the Junon base report to you in Costa del Sol."  
  
Reno spit out the ruined cigarette. "Yeah, I'm on my way there now. Should be leaving on a ship in the morning. Meet in the usual place?"  
  
"Fine, but Reno, Reeve also said that Cloud Strife is with you."  
  
"That's right."  
  
"Everything alright? Any trouble?"  
  
"Oh no. Smooth sailing and all that shit."  
  
Rude said something away from the phone's reception and Reno thought he heard a female laugh. Elena was nearby then.  
  
"Reno. Just don't kill him."  
  
"I won't."  
  
"I mean it. Think of the paperwork." Rude actually sounded serious.  
  
"Yes Mother."  
  
"We'll see you in Costa del Sol then, and then back at headquarters in a few days. Reeve has sent us on a paper hunt. It's going to take time."  
  
"You too? What are you looking for?"  
  
"He wants us to scour Gast's old house. Bring back anything Cetra related. We've also got to baby-sit a bunch of researchers."  
  
"Eggheads? Why?"  
  
"Some of the stuff we're taking out is equipment. He wants them to catalogue it."  
  
"Man, and I thought I had a shit job."  
  
"The mansion?"  
  
Reno's eyes flashed at as he recalled the typewritten report with his name stamped across the bottom like some lab animal.  
  
"Yeah. Got a little digging of my own to do."  
  
"And Strife?"  
  
"He's in the same boat, but I'd still like to drown him."  
  
"Watch out for yourself Reno. That one still has it in for you."  
  
"I have it in for me too," the redhead said grimly.  
  
"What? I didn't catch that. The sand storms play hell with reception out here."  
  
"It's nothing. Tell Elena I said to check out the 3rd rotor on the chopper's engine. It sounded off last I flew."  
  
"Right," Rude said slowly sensing the evasion. "She'll handle it. We'll catch you at the meeting place tomorrow night then."  
  
"Yeah," was all Reno could think to say, his mind elsewhere.  
  
"One more thing."  
  
"Mmm?"  
  
"If you're not in Costa del Sol when we are I'll take it as a sign that something went wrong."  
  
"Yeah?"  
  
"I'm worried about you Reno. You're not talking to me."  
  
"I'm fine, just not looking forward to this is all."  
  
"Sure. Remember though."  
  
"I'll be there," Reno said and flicked the off button. Immediately the PHS started ringing again. He sighed.  
  
"What?"  
  
Cloud's voice came through clear and annoyed. "You could have said it was you."  
  
"Not the way you were going on about your sex life."  
  
"She's not my girlfriend Reno and there's definitely no sex involved."  
  
"No wonder you're always in such a bad mood," the Turk countered.  
  
If teeth grinding over a phone line sounded like anything it sounded exactly like what he was hearing now.  
  
"Okay. Not going to get into this now. Are you at the bar?"  
  
Mina appeared with his shot. Reno took it in one gulp and caught her before she had even begun to pick up the tray and ordered another.  
  
"Yeah. Where the fuck are you?"  
  
"Inn. On my way over."  
  
"Hurry up or you'll miss happy hour."  
  
"Wouldn't want to do that." Cloud sounded somewhat grim. Reno didn't like it.  
  
"Just hurry up. I've been waiting a long time."  
  
"Right." And the other line clicked off. Reno stared at the receiver for a moment before turning off his own end. That man needed a drink. Or maybe 10. He knew he certainly did.  
  
*********************  
  
Jaz watched Reno out of the corner of her eye while she mixed drinks and conducted business. She wasn't really sure why she had let him back in after the incident. No presidential order from Reeve would have made any difference to her. She let in who she wanted and that was that. And fighters, especially those who damaged her establishment, usually got a choice between leaving indefinitely or the business end of her shotgun. Jaz could count the number of major fights in her bar on one hand. Two of them were Reno related, though the first had been no fault of his.  
  
Passing a tray loaded with shots to one of her wait staff Jaz took a moment to reassess the man she hadn't seen in three months.  
  
Reno had always been distinguishable from other customers and not just because he was TURK issue. His long red pony-tail and dark uniform were always in attendance, though she had seen the length of hair plaited on one occasion. She had never seen him though, in any other clothes except his birthday suit on a handful occasions. And she honestly didn't think that counted. They went back years since he had first joined the Turks, but their brief relationship had only consisted of a mutual need for company at night. At the moment he seemed to be lacking his usual character. He looked tired and withdrawn. The Reno she knew was loud and mouthy, always getting up on tables and goosing her wait staff. When he had come into the bar there had been none of his usual forceful presence.  
  
Reno had been in a state she'd only thought possible for street people and accident victims. Bloodied, muddied, and smelling like ozone. His eyes had also seemed wider somehow. They had been almost pupiless in a wash of luminous green; astonished or surprised at something she couldn't see, and she knew it hadn't been directed at her.  
  
She gave a mental shrug. Whatever it was it wasn't drugs at least. If he had done anything at one time it no longer made a difference, because what the SOLDIER program did to a body's metabolism was nothing short of amazing. Even caffeine was hard pressed to make a minute difference.  
  
Perhaps she could coax Reno back into himself with a little pick-me-up. Since Junon was essentially a military base Jaz got many SOLDIERs coming through. She had even developed a drink especially to deal with this particular side effect. She called it a 'Limit Break' with good reason, as it had hypers for a main ingredient. Ordinary troops might need medical help after one of those, but for SOLDIERs it was beverage necessity. She herself had one every morning, and thought Reno could use one as well.  
  
Leaning on the counter, blithely ignoring drink orders for the moment, Jaz reflected that she wasn't so much as mad for him showing up, but for not showing up sooner. Reno wasn't a keeper, and she understood that, but she worried that one day he might just stop showing up. Ever. Turks weren't known for retirering.  
  
The way he sat, eyes hidden behind shades, shoulders hunched and paler than seemed healthy, bothered her. A worried Reno was not something she was accustomed to dealing with. Suddenly though, his head perked up and the slouch disappeared. A sly smile crept over his face that left her wondering if she had misjudged his mood. Whoever he had been a minute ago he was certainly Reno Delaney now, crumpled cigarette already lit and positioned to one side.  
  
She followed his gaze across the room and picked out the source of his interest.  
  
There was a man entering the bar with wild blond hair that added inches to a medium sized stature.  
  
He was obviously a mercenary of some kind, with all the shoulder gear and almost unbelievably huge sword. She noted the metal studded gloves and material embedded in his wrist accessory. He wore a short sleeved gray top, close fitting and snug over the chest. Loose black pants were knotted at the waist and the belt harness, though different somehow, looked similar to the kind SOLDIERs wore. He was scanning the crowd and when his gaze passed over hers she bit down a breath because his blue-green eyes held an unmistakable glow. He was a SOLDIER then, but one with a strange taste in weaponry.  
  
Jaz watched as Alma, another of her wait staff, intercepted the man. There was a pause and some gestured conversation directed at the sword. The blond man seemed reluctant to give it up, but Alma prevailed and was rewarded with the harness, blade, and wrist accessory. The girl tried to put on the harness, but had to settle for carrying the whole pile to the weapons cache in her arms. She held the sword awkwardly because of the weight and moved slowly as though she were afraid to cut something even with it in the holder. Instead she managed to take out a few of the slower moving drunks by close-lining them as she passed. The owner of the sword watched her go, wincing as each body hit the floor.  
  
Jaz smiled. This could be interesting, as Turks and ShinRa military were not known for seeing eye to eye. Reaching underneath the counter top she checked to make sure her pulse rifle was charged. Just a precaution, of course.  
  
**************************  
  
Reno saw Cloud enter and in spite of himself he had to grin. Maybe it was the alcohol, but he was looking forward to a round of drinking and possible entertainment curtsey of Mr. Probably-couldn't-hold-his-liquor-Strife. Snagging Mina by her apron strings, and managing to cop an of course, purely accidental feel, he quickly ordered a round of L4 Suicides.  
  
She took his order, smacked him soundly, and flounced away giving him an excellent view of her retreating backside.  
  
He returned to attention as Cloud was relieved of the Ultima weapon, waiting patiently and entertaining himself with a bit of an idea when he noticed more than one person eyeing the ex-SOLDIER with interest as he wove his way gracefully around people and stools.  
  
Cloud stopped at Reno's table and pushed bangs out of his eyes, one brow raised in question.  
  
"Well what?" Reno said. "Sit down."  
  
The blond complied by drawing up a stool with his foot and settling in. He gave the bar another cursory glance then asked,  
  
"So, this is where the Turks hang out?"  
  
"Used to anyway. Been too busy lately and Junon hasn't really been an option."  
  
"Why not?"  
  
Reno leaned back in his chair and worked the cigarette to the other side of his mouth.  
  
"Been sorting out Midgar. It's a hell of a mess if you hadn't noticed."  
  
Cloud's face colored a bit, but the drinks came and saved him from answering immediately. He studied the golden liquid and without preamble took the whole thing in one gulp. Reno chewed the end of the cigarette and reassessed Cloud's tolerance. He did live with a bar owner after all, if that intel was still current.  
  
"How's Tifa?" The Turk mouthed around the rim of his glass.  
  
The ex-SOLDIER almost smiled, the obvious amusement tugging at his lips.  
  
"She's still coming up with new and unpleasant ways for you to die."  
  
"Charming."  
  
"Yes. Yes she is."  
  
"She seems to forget the lives she put out."  
  
Cloud opened his mouth, shook his head and said, "Let's //not// get into this. We still have two towns to go."  
  
"Just don't go getting all high and mighty on me. You've killed plenty of people too."  
  
The other man looked lost for a minute on those words, and Reno was almost sorry he'd said it. Almost.  
  
The Turk sniffed and returned his attention back to the half empty glass in front of him. For some reason the liquid seemed more vibrant than usual. Fascinating the way the lights got trapped and distorted in the amber color.  
  
Pretty, he thought, feeling warm. Not drunk though. Not off of this small pittance.  
  
He looked up to see Cloud peering into his own empty glass. The blond waved it in the air to get Jaz's attention and signaled for a bottle of draft from Mideel. He wasn't exactly sure how this was communicated between the two, but she unerringly got it right and with hook shot action, lobbed it at his head. Still eyeing the inside of his glass Cloud stuck out a hand and caught it.  
  
Mina, sensing she was needed, reappeared with whiskey and some carob nuts. The Turk made a simultaneous grab for both, but only got the order and no woman.  
  
"Hey," he said suddenly. "You /do/ have something else to wear!"  
  
Cloud too a swig from the drink and plucked at the gray material of the shirt.  
  
"As opposed to what? My usual gear just needs some attention before I can wear it again."  
  
"Like a nice bonfire perhaps? Why do you hold onto those rags?"  
  
"They were…a gift."  
  
"From?"  
  
"What about your clothes? You don't ever wear anything else."  
  
Reno narrowed his eyes and repeated, "From?"  
  
"Forget it."  
  
The Turk nodded his head as if Cloud had just confirmed something.  
  
"We need to talk," Reno said after a long pause.  
  
"Yeah."  
  
"You seem to know a bit more about this than me. I wanna know why."  
  
Cloud said nothing, seemingly absorbed in peeling the label from the glass piece by piece.  
  
"You said a name in your sleep."  
  
He looked up. "What?"  
  
"Zax."  
  
"So?"  
  
"Zax Tribeca?"  
  
The blond drained the contents of the bottle, his eyes lingering on the last drops as they hit the table when he turned it upside-down.  
  
"Why do you care? It's no big secret. Cait Sith was in AVALANCHE after all so I'm sure Reeve must have told you something. Or you could have checked the files."  
  
"Reeve seems to think it's your business and any files on you and Zax Tribeca are almost non-existent. Which means, someone made an effort to make you two disappear after the Nibelheim incident."  
  
"Incident," Cloud said, not liking the word. "That 'incident' destroyed everything."  
  
"No kidding. It took a town, the General and the General's second in command. You can imagine the confusion. You on the other hand are even more of a mystery."  
  
"How so?"  
  
"Don't play stupid Strife. The private that went to Nibelheim was a seventeen year old trouble maker that had no chance of being in SOLDIER. The physical make up, the psych file… Nothing in there sounds like you at all. Five years later and this guy shows up, says he's Cloud Strife and blows up a reactor. There are also some other inconsistencies that I just want to add so we can lay the cards out nice and straight."  
  
"I'll ask again. Why do you care? We're going to Nibelheim to pick up some files. I don't want to play twenty questions with you. I just want this over with as quickly as possible."  
  
"It has everything to do with this! /Private/Strife never made it into the SOLDIER program. I know that because that was the year I got in. I checked and your name isn't on the list. The last thing with your name on it is a transfer order to go to Nibelheim as part of a clean up crew for some Reactor check up. Except the thing is, you have all the characteristics of someone who was in it."  
  
"Hojo," Cloud said with venom. "That should tell you just about everything."  
  
"No dice Strife. I know about that 'unrecorded' and unauthorized experiment, and I know you have JENOVA cells in you, but what I don't get, and I think one or two eggheads back in Midgar will vouch for this, is how. How you are who you are. I know your file. Christ, I had to memorize it. You're allergic to Mako. That's one of the reasons you couldn't get into SOLDIER. You don't make any sense at all."  
  
Cloud half stood up from his chair and slammed a fist into the table. The empty bottles rattled.  
  
"There's a lot that /I/don't understand! About myself! About then! What do you want from me?!"  
  
Reno put his glass down and looked Cloud in the eyes. Eyes that were bright with anger and frustration, and mako.  
  
"I want to know what happened to you, because maybe it happened to me. You're the only one who knows jack about this 'Recall Project', or whatever the hell kinda name Hojo put to it. Scientists? Gone and dead. Hojo and Meteor didn't spare one between them that the Turks could find way back when Nibelheim went supernova, or before Midgar made a nice imitation of hell. Workers? Same problem, only they wouldn't be able to tell much anyway. Zax Tribeca? He's ain't talking that's for sure. Sephiroth? From what you told Cait Sith about those days the General was the last person to have a look at Gast's or Hojo's notes down in the mansion, and he ain't talking either. What we have here is a serious communication fuck up. I wanna know, and you're the only one left."  
  
Cloud had taken on the look of someone either in shock or suffering from lack of air. His mouth worked but nothing came out and for a moment Reno braced himself to be hit. When animals were backed into a corner sometimes they did crazy things. Strife looked a little gone and Reno wasn't about to get caught off guard. The earliest thing learned, first lesson in the slums.  
  
Instead though, the blond eased himself back into a sitting position, hands pressed to the table as if he needed to feel the wood grain beneath his fingertips. Instead of answering the Turk immediately, he signaled for another drink, and Reno found that he needed one badly. He wasn't drunk enough to keep his hands from shaking, and belatedly realized he was doing a good imitation of Strife with his own hands planted firmly palm down. He removed them and gripped each knee instead.  
  
"Well?"  
  
Cloud wiped the bangs from his eyes and took a breath.  
  
"Well, we have a problem then. A communication fuck up as you call it."  
  
"Why's that? Reeve set you up with something that makes you want to go to Nibelheim. That file you dropped on my desk only had /my/ name in it. You know something else. What did you take out of the file?"  
  
Cloud smiled but there was no warmth in it.  
  
"That's my business Reno."  
  
It was the Turk's turn to get angry.  
  
"Yeah? Well it's my business too! Somebody did something to me and I want to know what it was!"  
  
"Glad you're seeing things from my perspective for a change."  
  
"Not even," Reno hissed. "I'm actually trying to find out. Seems to me you've been avoiding this a long time if you haven't even got a clue as to what happened. If you're not lying that is."  
  
"No lie. I've got a lot of holes where there should be memories, but that doesn't give you any right to comment on my life."  
  
"I think we had this little talk already."  
  
"Yeah, and I'm sick of it. We're both headed to Nibelheim. That's the only thing we have in common."  
  
Their drinks came and the silence drew out into an uncomfortable length. They drank and sat. Heads bowed and thoughts full. Cloud excused himself to the bathroom and Reno wondered blithely if he planned on returning. They had just ordered another round though, so he figured there must be more yet to come…even if they weren't talking. Still, it was if something had burst between them. He wasn't irritated any longer, just empty. Tension and raw nerves from traveling were also unraveling with the alcohol. If they didn't manage anything else productive they'd certainly manage to get properly drunk tonight. At least that was something pre-planned. He hadn't counted on Cloud putting up such a brick wall. Knowing and not telling, or just not knowing. Which was it? Probably both. Files weren't windows into people's souls, but they did speak. There was a pattern here, two really. One was for Strife, the other for a boy who disappeared six years ago. Reno just couldn't make the connection he knew was there. Information was the key to that, and Strife was the only source.  
  
He looked to the bathroom door. Still no Cloud. He looked at the freshly served drinks and considered. Well, there was another option. Seeing as Cloud was apparently not a chatty drunk, or even that drunk at all. He wondered how long it would last against the physical make up of the paradoxical fighter.  
  
Patting the left side of his pants Reno located what he was looking for. A small vial, filled with liquid, came free of the pocket and under the light he peered at the neatly typed label.  
  
MAKO POISON ANTIDOTE  
  
He grinned. If he did this right Cloud would spill his guts faster than a Bahmut slice to the midsection would. This stuff had a lot of side effects, but it was also something the Turks found occasionally useful in tough interrogations. Good thing that doctor's office had had some on hand.  
  
With another peek at the door he whipped out his lighter and passed the flame under the bottom of the tube.  
  
"C'mon…" He said earnestly.  
  
The liquid inside moved slightly and began to take on a pale bluish cast. When it had darkened perceptively he turned it up over Cloud's waiting drink. He knew that heating it up would increase the rate of synthesis into the bloodstream and therefore speed up the process. If Cloud didn't talk soon he'd know that he hadn't warmed it up enough. It took time to activate, hours, sometimes even a day. Subjects that Reno had seen the stuff used on went from quiet to talkative to downright incoherent, like they were trying to speak but couldn't. They also didn't seem to sleep much either afterwards, but what did he care? He was interested in information and if routine questioning didn't get it, other methods worked just as well. Even if the period only lasted the usual hour it would be worth it.  
  
Behind and to the left of him, the bathroom door opened and a morose, but thoughtful looking Cloud stepped out. The blond walked over to the table, hands deep in hidden pockets in the black fabric of his pants. He stopped by his seat and looked at the drinks on the table.  
  
"Well?" The Turk said. "You gonna sit and finish or wimp out? I'm still 2 up on you."  
  
Cloud seemed to consider this and sat down. He sighed, but it was more tolerant than weary. He lifted the drink, swirled the liquor around a bit, then set it down. Reno watched him carefully, fingers twitching slightly.  
  
"One question," Cloud said.  
  
"Hmmm?"  
  
"How did you get those scars?" He pointed to the pink lines adorning Reno's cheeks.  
  
Reno grinned and took a swig from his bourbon.  
  
"How did you get yours?" And indicated the long white line from Cloud's elbow to wrist.  
  
The ex-SOLDIER closed his eyes and smiled faintly.  
  
"Fair enough," he said and tilted the glass all the way back into his upturned lips.  
  
Fair enough, Reno mouthed silently. He hid his exultation behind his own glass as he saw drops spill over the sides of Cloud's mouth to trail amber lines over the jaw and down into the tan hollow of the throat.  
  
Drink up you bastard. Drink up.  
  
* * * * * * *  
  
Authors Note: Wow. Um…that was long and involved. I've been drafting this for a couple of days, pouring over where I'm going with it and why I can't seem to get there any faster. *l* For everyone who was looking forward to that table dance fear not, I will not disappoint you again! This chapter was just stretching waaaay too long. I mean 30 pages is 3 times what I normally put out. My eyes hurt, your eyes hurt. I'll just save that little bit of insanity for next time to lighten up the mood. Not intentionally stringing you along…heh. So, next time, Cloud, a table, and destiny. Or just fools and folly. Riiiiiight. Oh, and I have a habit of integrating my readers into the story. Keep watch, they pop up every chapter.  
  
-Mo  
  
By the way: as usual I will plug the page where I have the entire story, art and yadda yadda. I made banners as well if anyone cares to link directly, as updates usually hit there first. http://www.geocities.com/w_a_k_i_n_g 


	9. Tit for Tat

Note from the Author: Shit. It's been.uh, a long time since I updated this. I'm gonna have to site pure an unadulterated guilt in conjunction with a bad day that made me actually sit down and pound it out. There's actually a lot more, but I tend to break these chaps down into anywhere from 10-15 page increments (especially after the last chap which was freaking 30 pages). Anyway, technical notes aside, if you don't remember from the previous chapter Cloud and Reno were having a nice little sit down over gin and their partnership has once again degenerated into some underhandedness. As neither side is innocent this chap was fun to play with. While for the most it's somewhat serious, especially in regards to their personal takes on the past and impending future, I did throw in the last bit to tease Meirelle Emeraldeyes, TaoStrife, Interfaceleader and all those who have kept with it. Thanks as always. ^_-  
  
Also: b/c fanfic.net has some weird changeover that happens when you upload I've had to do some weird stuff to make things go italics or have vowels draw out. "*" these around a word are where italics would be. They imply stress on something or sarcasm. "---" this just means a long vowel or mulling over something. You know, like "MMm----beef." Ha. ---------------------------------------------------------------------------- --------------------------------  
  
Chapter 8 (tho the bar says Chapter 9)  
  
Tit-for-Tat  
  
---------------------------------------------------------------------------- --------------------------------  
  
Some time later...  
  
"No." Cloud slurred a bit. "S'not like that at all. Tifa's got a great personality."  
  
"Bedroom personality maybe---"  
  
Reno took another swig of his beer. Cloud flushed pink, but it might have been the immediate effect of the Meteor that he downed in one gulp. AVALANCHE's leader, being serious in all his duties, world saving and other, also took his drinking like a military operation. Drinks were downed and stacked like trophies on the table. In lieu of actual fighting he seemed content to socially acceptable levels of combat. He was definitely on his way to drunk though, and certainly more social, but as for spilling truth Reno was beginning to despair of the serum ever taking effect. Hell, alcohol might go further than any drug here. Already they had managed a conversation of about five lines without death threats and glares, all due to the gracious effects of liquor. And a damned lot of it too! Insider info might not be out of the question here. If only he didn't fall prey to the drink too. Reno smiled foolishly at the thought and Cloud returned it with the manic grin of one who is two shots away from doing a table dance. Not that Reno would discourage that---but info might be more useful. Still---  
  
Lighting up a cigarette Reno took the opportunity to covertly count the drinks on the table. Several had been cleared already but going by what was still there he thought Cloud might have passed him by a shot and half an Odin's Rain. He sniffed surreptitiously, but there was a grudging respect in it. Apparently the only time Strife was even remotely tolerable was when he drank. Something to remember in that. He seemed to recall that Tseng had made a similar comment years ago about his own lack of social skills. No point in dredging up that memory though. Those were better washed away the past than recall each biting loss, every drop of blood spilt in trusting someone to be there. Not to die.  
  
He looked up to find Cloud studying him through hazy blue eyes.  
  
"You look like someone just died," the blond intoned around the moist rim of a beer bottle.  
  
Reno smiled faintly. "Just thinking about how much it sucks to be of SOLDIER makeup is all," he said. "Can't get properly drunk on this shite anymore."  
  
Cloud nodded. He held up the empty glass he had just finished. "Barely a shiver," he said. "You start to feel it and then it slips away from you. Dead sober in no time."  
  
Reno raised an eyebrow.  
  
"Hardly a burn to mark its passage." Cloud added with a half-smile. "I could drink ten of these and shrug them off like it was nothing. Tifa used to throw her hands up until she realized that it really didn't do anything. You can't drink casually once you're SOLDIER."  
  
"Amen to that," said the redhead. They toasted their empty glasses and signaled for more.  
  
"So---," said Reno once Mina had brought a refresher round. "Were you really in Midgar for the space program?"  
  
Cloud shrugged. "Cid asked me to do it, but I think it was mainly because he's worried that I might get bored."  
  
"Bored huh?" said Reno glancing sideways at the white undersides of Cloud's arms.  
  
"No one to save? No ancients to rescue?"  
  
Cloud attempted a menacing look but failed miserably.  
  
"She was part of the program you know," Reno volunteered, surprised at his own forthcoming.  
  
"?"  
  
"Aeris was a part of the program. We'd studied her before you know. At least that's what Hojo's records show."  
  
"Aeris was no part of that freak show," Cloud grated.  
  
"She was. We only had two ancients to study. Or, rather Hojo did," Reno amended when he noticed Cloud's rather dangerous looking grip on an empty beer bottle.  
  
"She didn't know of course. Hojo was always secretive like that. Most people he studied didn't even." Reno trailed off as fresh recollection at his name on that list surfaced.  
  
Cloud either seemed to understand or just tactfully avoided saying the obvious. Reno suspected he was just tipped past caring.  
  
"Well." Reno finished lamely.  
  
"What're *you* trying to do in Midgar?" Cloud said abruptly, voice surprisingly free of botched vowels and dragged-out consonants.  
  
"What---?" The question caught him off guard. "What's anyone trying to do?" he countered. "We're picking up the pieces. Living. That's what we're doing."  
  
"That city should just---"  
  
"Should what? Stop being?" Reno slammed his drink down on the table. "It's a shit hole I know. Things die there and you don't know till the smell starts." He leaned across the table, face inches from Cloud's.  
  
"At least we stayed."  
  
"I have no obligation to Midgar," Cloud said evenly.  
  
"The hell you don't. Reeve is there. He's Cait Sith right? Well, sort of, but he was one of you. You guys started this crap when you bombed the reactor. Where the hell is Barret now huh? He's lounging in North Corel. Tifa? You an' her are laying easy in Costa del Sol. Cid? Rocket town. Vincent? Who the fuck knows! But the point is, none of you stayed to deal with the mess you left."  
  
"You helped make it!" Cloud shouted. "Who's ShinRa here TURK?!"  
  
The two men were practically out of their seats, muscles quivering with adrenaline, empty bottles spinning on that table from the impact of their hands.  
  
"Break my bar and you both die," said a pleasant voice from behind them. Jaz towered over the table, a rather unpleasant looking rifle in her hand. The bar itself was still busy, but only hushed voices permeated the charged silence. Stares were directed their way and the immediate area around them was clear of people. A sheepish sort of acquiescence was adopted by both men and they sat carefully back down in their chairs.  
  
"No problem here," Reno was saying. Jaz looked at Cloud who opened his blue eyes wide and feigned innocence. The bartender favored him with a look that was more amused than angry.  
  
"You're cute, but innocent is not how I'd describe you."  
  
Cloud blinked at her.  
  
"Don't bother," Reno interjected. "Our boy here is practically asexual Jaz."  
  
"I dunno," she said with a leer. "He looks like a bed warmer to me."  
  
"Maybe better than some," she added. Reno scowled, Cloud looked pleased.  
  
The redhead snorted into his drink. "He's taken anyway."  
  
Jaz looked unperturbed, but Cloud shrugged almost apologetically. The bar owner sighed and lowered her gun.  
  
"Well, just don't go busting up my place Reno."  
  
"How's it always my fault?!" the redhead groused.  
  
"Because you're always present and for some reason that makes people want to kill. Including myself, so either behave or take it outside. For good."  
  
As she left Cloud eyed Reno over his glass, bright blue eyes narrow with suppressed laughter.  
  
"Were you just----.*scolded*?"  
  
The Turk snatched Cloud's drink and took a defiant swig.  
  
"We have a history is all."  
  
"So I gathered."  
  
"Ha," was all the Turk could think to say. Cloud signaled the waitress for another round. When the drinks arrived he lined them up neatly into a row that divided the table.  
  
"I thought we might play a game," AVALANCHE's leader said. "Since you won't seem to give up on interrogating me."  
  
Reno paused in mid sip. If he didn't know better he'd say Strife was plotting something, which in itself was disturbing. He was going to have to reassess the other man's drinking level, not to mention mental makeup, if the blond kept showing lucid moments of actual planning. He himself was not quite seeing clearly at this point, SOLDIER tolerance or no. Strife had to be feeling the same. And what about the serum? Maybe he'd botched the heating, but he didn't think so. Sooner or later he was going to feel it and when that happened---  
  
"Reno."  
  
"Mmm---? Sorry, just thinking. What kinda game you have in mind Strife?"  
  
"Q & A."  
  
"Q & A?" Reno grinned, shark-like in its intensity. "I'm up for that. How's it work?"  
  
The blond traced the rim of one glass. "Each drink represents one question. The way I see it, neither of us is willing to share unless there's a fair trade. So, for each drink you answer a question. If you decide not to answer you drink your own and the one opposite."  
  
"So, truth through punishment?" Reno said, adding up the shots with calculating eyes. Six shots, a wide range of possibilities.  
  
"Something like that," said Cloud with a faint smile, the thin line of white teeth in stark contrast to his flushed face.  
  
"Interesting. Alright, question one," Reno said, lifting a shot in toast. "What happened in Nibelheim?"  
  
There was a pause where Reno thought Cloud was going to take his shot from him and avoid it entirely. Instead the blond stared into the golden liquid a moment and pursed his lips.  
  
"Be more specific. That's a broad question."  
  
"Most of your records were wiped from headquarters. We have almost zero info from that period. It's like a blackhole in the files and weird shit keeps happening related to that very time. I want to know what Hojo did to you. Sephiroth I can guess, but you, you're a mystery as much the Cetra in some respects. We know you have SOLDIER makeup, but that conflicts with your old files. There's no way your body could have taken the process, but here you are. I want to know how."  
  
Cloud gnawed at his lower lip. "That's the question of century, or at least my life. I can tell you that he did something to me and Zax---but what I don't know exactly. Half of my memory from then is as much a gaping hole as your files. Hell, I hardly remember before that time."  
  
There was---truth, and lie in that reply. Reno was sure of it. But how to separate one from the other?  
  
"I think you owe me another question from that sorry-ass answer."  
  
"Shoot."  
  
"You and Zax. What's that about?"  
  
Cloud blanched, though surely he had expected it.  
  
"We were friends, though you might say he was more an older brother sort."  
  
"I'm sure," Reno said dryly.  
  
"He, well, he was my superior in ShinRa, but he also seemed to think he could make something out of me. As the files say, I couldn't get into SOLDIER right off the bat, but Zax was sure I could make it."  
  
Reno sipped at the shot he was holding without thinking. Liquid like brittle ice climbed the back of his throat then melted into a sigh. He had to clear his throat to continue.  
  
"Zax trained you then?"  
  
Cloud shook his head. "He gave me tips, took me to the bar with him. Tried to keep me out of trouble."  
  
Reno narrowed his eyes slightly. *This* was where he wanted to get. Strife before the experiments or whatever. There was just something nagging at him. Something missing from the bigger picture. If he pressed him on his less recent past instead of the Nibelheim incident he might actually get something more valuable.  
  
Casually Reno sipped at the shot again.  
  
"So Zax was a close friend? You two know each other previously?"  
  
Cloud opened his mouth, then shut it so abruptly that Reno nearly started into his shot glass.  
  
"Nice try Turk. No freebies. My turn."  
  
The ex-SOLDIER picked up the shot in front of him, turning it around and around under the light.  
  
"In that packet that Reeve prepared, your name was on a long list of names. I read the summary, but what I want to know is how you're involved."  
  
"Hell. Then you know as much as me. You think I knew *my* name was on that list? If I had had any idea when Hojo was still alive I'd of-"  
  
"You'd of done nothing," Cloud said flatly.  
  
Reno shifted his position and leaned aggressively across the table.  
  
"I'd of found out what he was up to then shoved those findings up his ass."  
  
"Hojo had a reputation for interpreting company resources at his disposal to include employees. I hear there was a high turnover for personnel. Even Turks. "  
  
"Bullshit! Hojo may have experimented on ShinRa's own dog but no Turk is that easy! Where are getting this crap from?"  
  
Cloud chewed his lip. "From someone who'd know pretty well. And from what he told me they knew."  
  
"They? As in ShinRa?"  
  
"ShinRa, the board---and the head of the TURKS."  
  
Reno gave Cloud such a look that the other man set down the shot and placed both hands lightly on the table top. A conciliatory gesture. It pissed him off even more.  
  
He let the words cycle through his head at light speed, made a connection, and tried a different route.  
  
"Wait a sec. Someone who'd know---you mean Valentine don't you?"  
  
The other man nodded.  
  
"He was before my time. Before Tseng's."  
  
Cloud's steady look was unchanged in its suspicion. That look said, it's happened before, it happened again. You just won't admit it.  
  
He ground his back teeth and tried to keep it out of his face.  
  
Cloud continued. "I didn't actually expect you to know exactly what was going on, but are you saying you didn't have a clue?"  
  
"If I didn't know, no one knew."  
  
"Mmm---"  
  
"My turn," Reno asserted, raising the glass.  
  
"Why are *you* going to Nibelheim?"  
  
There was no hesitation. Cloud plucked Reno's shot from his grasp and drank it, then finished off one of the three in front of him. It seemed AVALANCHE's leader was still pretty set on being an ass about that subject.  
  
Reno scowled. "I think your game sucks Strife."  
  
Cloud shrugged, "We don't have to continue."  
  
Somehow that implied that Strife had gotten what he was looking for while all Reno had was an affirmation in his gut that something was off. As to what that might be he still had nothing concrete. He felt played but in what way he also didn't know. Damned if he was farther behind than before!  
  
"If we're gonna do this you have to at least play too."  
  
"I'm going by the rules."  
  
"Fuck that. Your rules suck too. Just answer a question for once."  
  
Cloud shrugged. "Shoot."  
  
"Fine. There was a minor note in one of the reports that we do have on you before Nibelheim. It mentions disciplinary action. Wanna tell me about it?"  
  
Blue-green eyes regarded his question with a slight frown. Puzzlement maybe.  
  
"Not really, but what I remember isn't much either." Cloud pushed the shot around on the table with the inside of his wrist. The Mako blue eyes strayed right and he said,  
  
"There was a fight. Just a disagreement of sorts."  
  
Reno studied him carefully.  
  
"A fight between you and other troops?"  
  
"Nothing major, just a scuffle. Don't even think anyone was seriously hurt."  
  
Reno nodded, satisfaction hidden under veiled eyes.  
  
Got you Strife. Caught you in a lie. Even if your body language wasn't screaming falsehood I've read that report and I can't say I believe it was merely a 'scuffle'. There was hospital time, and it wasn't for you. You stabbed a guy. To me that says it was a little more serious than you're letting on.  
  
"I think it also mentions that Zax bailed you out."  
  
"Yeah. So?"  
  
Reno shrugged. "I'm just trying to figure this guy out. You downplay your connection with him but he obviously figured in your life. What's the deal?"  
  
"I don't understand why you keep asking me about him. I thought you wanted to know more about Nibelheim or whatever might be there. I said before that Zax and I were friends. What more do you want?"  
  
*The bigger picture*, Reno thought. *Zax and Sephiroth were partners, you were a grunt. I'll give that from what I do know about Zax he seemed like a nice guy, but why you? Not then, but after Nibelheim. I don't know whether or not it was because you both were prisoners at the same time and he felt responsible for you or something else entirely, but I do suspect that Zax brought you out of there at all costs for another reason. And I'll be* damned* if* you* don't know why.*  
  
Cloud was staring at him, but there was no indication that he was following the same line as Reno's thoughts. The Turk made a big show of sighing and shrugging. He motioned to the shots, indicating Cloud's turn, but the blond was still staring straight ahead. His eyes were very bright in the shadows of his face.  
  
"Strife?"  
  
The other man's voice came out thick and slow.  
  
"What makes you think I had anything to do with the Recall Project?"  
  
Reno stared hard. "What?"  
  
Cloud's gaze was intense but unfocused. "The Project wasn't in my jurisdiction." His tanned face strained for a moment, the fine brows coming together in a "V" of what seemed to be pain. He shuddered once and put a hand to his face.  
  
"Strife?"  
  
No reaction to the question, just a feeling of intense uneasiness. Perhaps in some kind of weird parallel of sympathy pain that sometimes happens when a person near you complains of headache or migraines Reno felt a jolt of heat flare briefly between his own eyes, followed by audible chirping in his ears like little voices on acid. He tried to ignore them and focus on Cloud who was, while not being forthcoming about the strange pause or spoken words, suddenly still. Instead of answering he calmly leaned forward, took Reno's shot from out of his hand and downed it in one gulp. The Turk could think of nothing to say. He picked up one of Cloud's drinks and drank that instead.  
  
They continued like this for a time, eyes meeting across the table in brief glances. Reno's were puzzled, Cloud's were---knowing? Laughing? For some reason Reno couldn't bring himself to speak. He just sat there and mimicked Cloud's steady progression through drinks. The buzz in his ears got worse but his vision seemed to clear. Something was definitely not the same.  
  
He looked at Cloud sitting there, game apparently forgotten, just smiling at him with a weird little Cheshire-like grin. Totally unlike him.  
  
Totally unlike him--- Reno gave a start. That's what was bothering him. When Cloud had first sat down it was more like the way an edgy bird might perch, ready to move, loathe to relax. Now, the man that sat opposite was more solid somehow. More a part of the knotted wood beneath the fingers that drummed across the table in a complicated tattoo. Solid, collected. The atmosphere itself was heavy like a gravity spell fresh off someone's lips. The air dense and tingly, but then again that could just be the alcohol doing its job.  
  
He blew a waft of smoke from the fresh lit cigarette between slightly parted lips and shook off a shudder of his own. The sensation grew so bad though that he set his drink down and rubbed both arms vigorously. Cloud chose this moment to look up again with that same strange half smile. It was too self-ironic to be his. Their eyes met a little more forcibly and Cloud finally turned those luminescent eyes away with a shake of the head. When he brought them back to bear on Reno's face they were startlingly brown with little halos of mako green around the edges.  
  
A voice, deeper than Cloud's and fairly loaded with amusement said, "Something on my face?"  
  
Reno gaped, cigarette falling out of his mouth and then end over end into a puddle of condensation where it snuffed out.  
  
Cloud spoke again with head slightly cocked, a thin line of white teeth showing.  
  
"Better get used to it," he said and laughed, but it was someone else's laugh entirely. It was warm and rich, but undeniably weird coming from Cloud's mouth. Reno was about to push back from the table when the other man shook his head again and those blue-green eyes returned, swimming in a liquor haze.  
  
"What?" He asked, light slur and familiar brittle smile.  
  
The Turk frowned, witnessed the room vibrate in time to whatever music Jaz had roaring and dispassionately watched the beer bottle in front of him multiply into fuzzy replicas. He passed a hand in front of his face and said,  
  
"I think I'm drunk."  
  
Cloud considered this while swaying on his own stool.  
  
"I think I am too."  
  
* * * * * * *  
  
From a discreet corner of the bar, covered in more shadows than glow from the dim overhead lighting, sat a man who was watching the pair of fighters from afar very intently. He had been there for longer than they and while no surprise registered on his face at all when each had entered he did find himself attentive to their actions.  
  
He marked with cold precision their weapons or seemingly lack thereof. He counted the bottles and glasses methodically, did sums in his head and came to the conclusion that both were due for a bad day after. And while he watched them he had to ask himself why were they there, and why together? On any other occasion he could care less but being out of loop for such a protracted amount of time made him feel uncertain. Not a feeling he enjoyed.  
  
Cloud, it seemed, had made a new friend. A very dangerous friend. At least, one to look out for, thought Vincent Valentine.  
  
He reclined in his chair and let the long strands of black hair hide the pale glow of his face from the crowd. All around him they moved, danced, jostled, and for the most part got in his line of sight. When one or another actually noticed the red-cloaked man sitting there he gave them such a look that space tended to clear in his immediate area by some kind of transmitted tacit agreement. He found that he only liked their company insofar as they didn't try to engage him in any way. Funny that he should come to a bar at all given his preference for quiet solitude, but even he, monster that he was, needed to be reaffirmed that there were living, happy people out there.  
  
An obviously drunk man passed him and incredibly, blew him a kiss.  
  
Vincent fingered his gun. Maybe too happy---  
  
There was commotion suddenly and Vincent leaned forward in his chair to get a better look. As had the past three commotions been, this one was also Cloud-Turk related. They seemed to be arguing heatedly about something. Their shouts were lost in the babble of the crowd but the sweeping gestures from the Turk and defensive, arms-crossed reply from Cloud spoke of a challenge.  
  
Vincent took a sip from his drink without ever loosing his tab on the two who were still shouting. It didn't seem to be a fight---yet. There were no fighting stances or other overt battle-type actions. Cloud *was* however, pounding on the table top and pointing at his own chest aggressively.  
  
Vincent was uncertain of how to translate that, or the Turks's own response, which was to draw up a chair next to Cloud and begin pounding on that.  
  
Now, he had never considered himself the planning or thinking member of AVALANCHE but he knew he wasn't deficient in his mental capabilities. Just because he had been locked in a coffin for a considerable amount of time and had a demon riding shotgun in his brain didn't mean he couldn't piece things together. What he didn't understand though was why on the planet Cloud was stepping up onto the chair. And by the Cetra, why was the Turk handing him a large denomination of gil? Could this be--- Was it possible-- -?  
  
He frowned and pushed up out of his chair, feeling that this time, he had to do something before things got dire. Dire as only table dances got.  
  
* * * * * * *  
  
End Note: Some will note with satisfaction that even though a considerable amount of time has passed I have not forgotten the, er, table dance. Others will note with extreme ire that while I have not forgotten it I still haven't done it and therefore deserve wrath and ass kicking all around. I at least hope that you are either annoyed or intrigued enough to continue reading what I do put up and I look forward to any response, even the death threats. Also, questions and letting me know of any mistakes are very welcome because I realized last night that I haven't played this game in about 4 years or so and aside from my gut feelings on the character's emotional status I'm really just making most of this shite up. So please please feel free to correct me and I will make the appropriate changes and thank you. Ja for now.  
  
-Moira 


	10. Table Dance

  
**Note from the Author:** Ok, this is just short bit (only 15 pages?) that I churned out ASAP because, let me shout it loud, mako eyed monster, (whoever you are!) made me feel so guilty that I pounded out these pages in a record four hour sitting. Well, guilty and really REALLY happy that she, and others have stuck with this story and given me such a big ego. Thank you so much for your support, and if you keep at me by reviewing or sending flames (anything works) then I'll be forced to put out new chaps at a greater rate than twice a year. So, here's the long awaited for table dance, and I hope you enjoy it. Much mayhem to come in the next chapter and more new character cameos to start tying in the bigger picture. As always comments, suggestions, etc are appreciated and horded.  
  
P.S. mako eyed monster. Please leave your email next time so I can thank you proper. You lit a fire under my lazy ass and I haven't been able to sleep for all the story shite for this monster running around in my head. 

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Chapter 9  
**Table Dance**

****

"I think you're going about this the wrong way. You're supposed to drink the thing, not concuss yourself," Reno said carefully, making sure to enunciate each syllable lest he demonstrate himself to be as drunk as he felt. Though, he supposed that Cloud simply didn't want to accept defeat and had defaulted by stalling the round in a less than sensible manner. As it were, the Ex-SOLDIER seemed to be entertaining himself by slowly beating his head against the table. It didn't help that there was a substantial puddle of alcohol soaking into his hair with each resounding 'thump' either. Droplets splashed about in unorganized amounts. Reno frowned as some of it wet the lapels of his suit.  
  
"Now really," he slurred slightly. "Just give it up. You gave your word that which ever of us gave up first would have to do what the other said tonight."  
  
Cloud continued to bang his head against the table.  
  
"I can't believe you're so squeamish after all the stuff you've done. All you had to do was swallow. S'not like I specified 'chew' or anything. And hey, I drank mine didn't I?"  
  
Bleary mako eyes looked up from under dripping strands of liquor saturated hair and regarded the Turk balefully.  
  
"Yours was dead already. I had to pick mine up off the floor 'cause it kept jumping out."  
  
Reno shrugged and slipped a little off his stool.  
  
"Be a man, drink your frog."  
  
"I will _not_."  
  
"Then get up on the table and accept your loss the honorable way."  
  
"..."  
  
"Or drink."  
  
The frog inside the beer mug looked particularly not in favor of this outcome and settled for casting for casting 'mini' on an unwary patron.  
  
A passing waitress sighed and, without missing a beat, produced the third 'soft' that night. The man returned to proper size, none the wiser in his drunken state.  
  
"I feel funny," Cloud confessed, his head drooping back to the wet table top.  
  
"S'called being toasted."  
  
"Drunk."  
  
"In-e-bri-a-ted."  
  
"In-tox-i-ca-ted."  
  
"Sloshed."  
  
"Hammered."  
  
"Brained."  
  
"Pollaxed."  
  
"Peaked."  
  
"Tottered."  
  
"Wasted."  
  
Reno made a face. "You done yet?"  
  
"S'your turn."  
  
The Turk ignored him. He himself was feeling a bit warmer than the alcohol warranted. Drunk sure, but this was...weird. Loose kind of. Maybe even silly. He had to keep himself in check because he kept getting this strong urge to roll around on the floor. Not dignified, but tempting. And he couldn't understand it. He really couldn't. It was one hour later and not going at all the way he had expected. For some reason he was having problems concentrating on the issue at hand. Alcohol could be the culprit here, but Reno was no stranger to ridiculous amounts of liquor. He and Cloud were currently riding waves of the stuff and there were high points, like when Mr. Secretive actually parted with a few nuggets and then there were low points, like when Mr. Secretive turned Mr. Hyde and went spooky on him. The mocking part didn't help either.

Reno squinted across the table. "Are you going to back out on our deal?!" He challenged.

Cloud made a shooing motion with his hand and looked to be stalling for time.

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Drunk as he was, Cloud was having problems sorting this out. They had been...what the hell had they been doing anyway? He was having problems with the whole memory thing. In fact, right up until he and Reno had begun a whole new round of drinks that had somehow ended in a frog (a rather unhappy one at that) nearly being drunk there was a throbbing sort of haze he was unable to penetrate. And now somehow he was backed into a corner about a deal he didn't recall making...

Impatient with the long pause while these thoughts reeled around in Cloud's mind Reno pounded his fist on the table top. "Well? Are you?!"

Jaz Cloud noticed, as usually happened mere seconds after voices became raised, was hovering on the edges of their spot, but she wasn't yelling or brandishing a gun. In fact, he was somewhat disturbed to note, she had this weird little smile on her face. This struck the ex-SOLDIER as odd, maybe even alarming somewhere in the back of his brain, but he wasn't capable of listening at the moment.

"What?" He said instead.

The Turk folded his arms across the chest, stood, and drew up to the fullest his 6 foot frame would allow. He looked like a bandy rooster.

"I'm asking you Strife, IF YOU ARE GOING TO HONOR THE BARGAIN." "You are 'honorable' aren't you?" He added with a slight sneer.

Cloud flushed red and puffed out his own chest. He pounded it a few times for good measure. "I do what I say I'll do," He asserted gravely. The rolling manner of speech the drinks had put him under however, made it sound more like, "E-ye do whhhhat e-ye say I-u-ll doo." Somewhere a 'mako eyed monster' gave a snort of laughter.

"Well then," Reno grinned, cigarette punctuating each vowel with a little waggle, "Step right up." He flourished the stool Cloud had been sitting on and brought it around close to the table between them.

Cloud stared at it blankly. Reno handed him a wad of gil and someone nudged him up onto the stool. He swayed on it dangerously and found that a man he didn't know was suddenly shoring him up from one side to keep from falling. He opened his mouth to say thanks, but snapped it shut fast when oddly he felt something being tucked neatly into the waist of his pants. When he looked down to see what it was the edges of gold embossed gil waved at him cheerfully from under the folds of his tank top. What the hell?

Using an unsteady hand to brush the bangs out of his eyes he glanced across the table and saw Jaz with most of her face buried in the palm of her hand, shoulders shaking with laughter. In her free hand she had a ten denomination gil. This was...

"Up you go!" Reno said gleefully and gave Cloud a hefty shove. The ex- SOLDIER clumsily got from stool to table and was saved from an all out sprawl only by his quick reflexes (even alcohol tinged as they were) and knelt there amidst the remains of their night. The cold dregs of a turned over beer began seeping through the knee of his pants.

"What the hell am I supposed to do up here?!"

"First you stand," Reno said.

Gods only know why he did it but he did. Cloud, with the extreme care of the extremely inebriated, managed to rise about ¾ of the way to a full stand. He looked down at Reno, at once both questioning and, in some saner part of his mind, indignant.

The red head leered at him, none too steady himself, and placed a non- threatening looking hand onto the edge of the table. "At least I'll get _something_ out of this," the Turk said, but Cloud couldn't hear him over the babble of voices. And then he gave it a good shove.

Caught off guard by the sudden movement under his feet Cloud threw his arms out and his body strove to regain equilibrium. He leaned left as the table rocked right. He bent back a bit as the wood made a sudden lurch forward. He tipped and dipped along with the motion like a surfer feeling out the current. When the table steadied finally and banged loudly back onto all fours, he hung there, paused like some slow motion capture of a mime in the midst of a flower interpretation. He looked up, relief in his eyes at not toppling off, and was met by a roar of approval from the huge crowd surrounding the table.

The sound of his jaw dropping was loud indeed. The sound of a certain redhead making the most of the moment was even louder.

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Vincent Valentine resisted the urge to press his face into the metal claw that was his right arm (because that would probably hurt) and made his way carefully over to the commotion through the throng of people that now surrounded Cloud and the Turk.

He moved quicker when he saw the table settle and Cloud paused there, uncertain, and unsteady. Just as the blond-haired man faltered his left leg gave out and he buckled sideways. Vincent got under him at the last moment and kept him from completely falling to the floor. He set Cloud back on his feet but again the leg seemed unresponsive. Had he injured it somehow?

Vincent looked up at the Turk from under the cloud of black hair. Delaney for his part looked stunned to see him.

"Valentine," the Turk began warily.

Vincent ignored him to level a BACK-OFF-NOW gaze at the crowding patrons around them. Most took the hint and tottered back to whatever vaguely criminal things they had been up to before the show. Others had to be encouraged with a glint of metal from his arm. Reno looked down at it as well and crewed on the end of his cigarette, unimpressed.

"What, is going on here?" He asked in a low voice.

Reno sniffed disdainfully and swayed gently on his feet.

"Your leader was giving us a demonstration of the ancient art of stri-"

"I was not," interrupted Cloud with a growl from somewhere in the recesses of Vincent's long red coat. He fought his way free of it and leaned heavily on the table.

"You-"he growled.

"Me," Reno agreed.

"You," Vincent said narrowing his eyes.

"Right again," confirmed the Turk.

"-pushed the table-"Cloud said jerkily.

"I did you know," Reno confided to Jaz who tried to make it look like she was casually strolling by their table to collect empty bottles but was in fact ogling Vincent.

"I-"Cloud began, then clapped a hand to his mouth. Vincent, who had not had a drop of booze since well before each of these men was born still remembered the warning signs.

Without a wasted motion he steered AVALANCHE's leader to the bathroom and through sheer willpower alone (and some timely flashes of a rather large Desert Eagle) skipped the line entirely and shut the door firmly behind Cloud. If anyone had any problem with this he merely smiled at them, which was enough to send many to the ladies room to clean themselves up.

The raven-haired AVALANCHE member returned to Turk's table. They stared at each other for a moment before Reno, with the grace of a telemarketer on a bad day said, "What the hell are you doing here Valentine?"

"I could ask you the same question."

"If you don't know why then you must be falling out of the loop. Not hanging around with AVALANCHE anymore?" Reno said sweetly.

Something in Vincent's face closed and the gunman was surprised to note that that remark had hurt a bit. On the edges of his mind Chaos giggled.

Reno cocked his head to one side as if trying to catch something said softly. When Vincent simply stared at him he shrugged it off.

"Maybe you should ask your great leader," the red-head said.

"I am not, as you said, 'in the loop' of late, and Cloud is in no condition to tell me right now."

Reno was amused. "And you think I'll tell you what you want to know? Man, you AVALANCHE guys sure have delusions of grandeur. You think having an attitude and metal arm are the secret passwords to info? Not in this bar. Not to this Turk."

"I don't have time to waste arguing with you," Vincent said in that same flat voice.

Reno scowled and crossed his arms.

_Like a child. Like a child_, Chaos hissed. Vincent silenced the monster with an errant thought.

"What did you call me?"

Vincent shook his head, dark strands of hair escaping the bandage-like headband he wore.

"Reno, If you won't tell me what you're doing here with Cloud then at least let me tell you something."

"Why do I get the feeling this is gonna be like a lecture?"

"Take it as you will, but if you are traveling with Cloud I would give you a word of advice."

"You mean a warning."

"As I said, take it as you like, but Cloud is at a point here where some people, we, would see that he be safe."

The redhead uncrossed his arms and jammed his hands deep into the pockets of his navy blue slacks. "What're you trying to say Valentine? Give it to me straight. I'm beginning to remember that I don't care."

"I'll say it in language you'll understand then. Should Cloud come to any harm while in your company I will personally unload an entire clip into that hole you call a mouth."

Chaos gave a delighted snicker. Vincent, for once, let it go without clamping down on the otherly presence in his mind.

Incredibly the Turk smiled, though it was rather more nasty than what one might call 'happy'. "Now we're talking," Reno said. "You expect me to baby-sit Strife?! I knew this deal was more than coincidence."

Vincent must have let a bit of the puzzlement show through on his face because Reno's next words weren't so cock-sure.

"Well, I'll tell you now, he's here of his own doing. I don't want to be tagged with him any more than he does me. Whatever I'm doing only just happens to include him through unhappy circumstance. I don't give a flying f-ck if the next time you see chocobo head is at his funeral. Tell _him_ to mind his goddamned self and don't think you can threaten _me_ Valentine. It just rolls right off."

The gunman held Reno's eyes for a few moments longer to make his point. The Turk shrugged and looked down at the table irritably. Vincent continued to study him and wondered briefly, with some unfamiliar sense of nostalgia, what was to become of his former organization.

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Reno canted one hip against the table and glared at a spot just to the left of Vincent's head. Was he to really believe that Valentine had shown up in this place randomly just to give him that warning about Strife? Unlikely, but he had caught a hint of genuine 'not-knowing' from the gunman when he'd been asked about the mission.

He sniffed. As if he was going to spill niggling little details like his name in that file to a member of AVALANCHE. Bad enough that Strife knew. Odin help him if that kind of information got around. He had plenty of living enemies to deal with still even while sorting out the mess from dead ones. Damn Hojo and his experiments.

Reno snuck a glance at the gunman while Valentine was watching the bathroom area for signs of Cloud's return. He looked the same from when they had met last, fighting over the Cetra, fighting over the remains of ShinRa. His hair was still a curtain that hid as much as repelled inquiry. The gun, which Reno had pegged as soon as Valentine had stepped into the light was still the same (How had he gotten past Jaz with that huge thing?) and aside from a black leather pack over the shoulder, this Valentine was remarkably like the old one. Of course, that was a 50 year theme if the files could be believed. Vincent Valentine, ex-Turk, former member of AVALANCHE, current whereabouts unknown. That would have to be amended though.

Most recent sighting of corpse-like gunman in a Junon dive called the Lazarus Pit. News at Eleven, Reno thought. Current occupation: Creepy Asshole. Mark that one up next to Strife's new designation, "Hypocrite Jerk", and soon they'd have to just scrap all the AVALANCHE files. It would be anarchy!

But....there was probably still some useful tidbits to be gotten here. Point one: Hadn't Cloud said that Valentine had told him personally about some hidden deal between Hojo and the head of ShinRa concerning the Turks? Was this something he could get easily from the gunman? Probably not. Point two: Were all AVALANCHE members this protective of each other or was Strife a special case? Reno was inclined to the latter as from what picture he'd been able to put together of what he considered, 'the real Cloud Strife' was one of a guy who was prone to mind control, whined a lot, and had serious issues if that mark on his arm was what he thought it was.

Unconsciously Reno traced the surface of one of his own scars then jerked his hand away quickly as Vincent turned back around.

"Ah," he said, then shut his mouth as he heard that high-pitched noise again. It had come and gone while he was talking to Valentine, and on one or two occasions he could have sworn he heard words, but then again he was drunk and high-pitched voices from nowhere weren't uncommon in that state.

He looked up at Vincent's face boldly, trying to read something there. Those flat red eyes bored into his though and his stomach gave a little unhappy lurch. He looked away again, cheeks heating. Damned unnerving little things. And, while he was probably imagining it, that hazy cloud thingy by Valentine's right ear didn't make him feel any more comfortable.

To avoid even indirect meetings again, Reno fished unnecessarily long in the back pocket of his pants for a fresh smoke (it seemed he'd gone through an entire pack almost during this little party) and then packed it repeatedly against his open palm. Valentine was still staring at him as if waiting for a reply to some unspoken question. Reno was sure the other man hadn't blinked once yet.

_Just kill him_, the sibilant voice said from within the dark haze. _Send him to that waterfall too. Shheeee would like the company._

Vincent's eyes flickered slightly and the voice abruptly cut off with a squeal. Reno kept his own eyes locked on the pack of smokes.

He was not hearing this. He was drunk and mad that a former Turk, no scratch that, psycho, demon-eyed, shadow carrying AVALANCHE reject, had just threatened him. There were no voices, he was imagining things.

The hazy thing giggled.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------  
  
Off to the side the bathroom door opened and shut and Cloud reappeared looking less disheveled but still flushed. Vincent followed Reno's glance then tracked back to the Turk's face. Surly green met inscrutable red.

"In the past the TURKS knew when heeding warnings was the best course."

Reno shook his head angrily, the red tail whipping back and forth. The gunman might not have actually drawn his weapon to make good on the threat but damned if he was going to answer to the bastard. Reno Delaney was the new TURK in charge and there was no way a ghoul like Valentine, even if he had been a part of the Turks once, had the right to lecture him as if he were subject to any authority but Reeve's. There were three Turks left and no real power behind what remained of the governing structure. They did what they could and gave a huge middle finger to people like a certain spiky-haired AVALANCHE leader and members of his team. 'Advice' his ass.

Valentine gave a sort of assenting sniff and turned to Cloud who had made his limping way over to them. Standing side by side the gunman seemed to tower over the other man.

Cloud had one gloved hand pressed to the bridge of his nose and up close he looked a bit green. Reno felt a bit green himself.

Valentine leaned down and said softly, but firmly, "I think we should get you back to your hotel."

Cloud didn't disagree.

Valentine straightened and gave Reno a very pointed look before clearing a path to the exit by virtue of presence alone. The waitress, Mina, hurried up carrying Cloud's assortment of gear. Vincent tried to take them, got a growl from their owner, and unaffected but agreeable, let Cloud have them.

Reno stalked up during this exchange and clamped a hand down on Cloud's tan shoulder while Valentine was busy staring people down and out of the way. Cloud stopped and looked back at him. The blue-green eyes were swimming slightly but aware. Reno swallowed and forced the afterimage of green-haloed brown from his mind. Cloud blinked up at him expectantly.

"We, uh...I'll meet you at the docks at eight tomorrow," he said and snapped his mouth shut.

The blond considered, pressed a hand to the bridge of his nose and finally nodded.

"At eight then," he repeated.

Reno nodded at him and watched the two leave through the wide, double black doors. He turned and made his way back to the table.

"Docks at eight, docks at eight," he said to himself, trying to set it in his mind over the buzz.

"Docks at eight," Jaz mimicked in his ear. He jumped.

"You---Don't sneak up on me like that," he groused.

She smiled winningly at him. "If I didn't catch you unawares Reno then I'd never be able to settle your bill now would I?"

"_My_ bill...?" Reno repeated dumbly.

"Yeah," she said sweetly. "That blond guy you were with, Cloud right? He said to put it on your tab."

"On _my_ tab?" He repeated again, a sinking feeling in his gut.

"That's right lover. And I must say, you gave me good business tonight. Between both your efforts to do yourselves permanent brain damage and that little show you put on, I did excellent sales."

"What would you say to a cut of that cover charge for the show?" Reno said, backing away. He ran into something soft, but solid behind him which turned out to be Mina. And a stun gun.

"No deal," Jaz said pleasantly. "But, I'm sure we can work it out."

Reno whimpered a little whimper.

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They walked, or rather Vincent walked and Cloud shuffled ahead of him, stubbornly lugging his gear. The gunman trailed behind him without comment however for which Cloud was grateful. Of all the AVALANCHE members who might see him in this state he was glad it was Vincent. The taller man could be counted on to not disclose embarrassing details, offer up sarcastic commentary or chatter in his ear. In short, Vincent Valentine would leave Cloud alone to wallow in his own self induced misery without interfering. He liked that about the other man.  
  
"If I want a hangover, I damn well will get one!" Cloud declared belligerently.  
  
A couple on the opposite side of the street paused to stare at him. Vincent placed his hand, the human one, on Cloud's shoulder and steered him back down the path.  
  
"Which way?" he asked softly.  
  
Cloud pointed with the full length of the Buster sword extended out from his hand. Vincent picked out the hotel from the other non-descript buildings and nudged Cloud into walking mode again. The smaller man was limping still and Vincent would have liked to have simply carried him there to avoid all the stares being directed their way. He himself could have slid easily past these people's notice, but having a blond-haired, drunk man waving a sword about in tow was making that hard.  
  
They reached the doors without further incident and pushed inside. Cloud waved cheerily at something Vincent couldn't see but assumed was a camera from the whirling noises. In the foyer they were met by a large man with a giant mustache. The man eyed Vincent with suspicion and hefted the augmented shotgun over his shoulder meaningfully.  
  
"Friend of yours?" He asked Cloud without removing his eyes from the gunman.  
  
Cloud rammed the Buster sword back into its holder and hobbled forward to shake the man's hand rather vigorously.  
  
"Barson," he said. "Meet Vincent Valentine, an old friend of mine."  
  
Barson nodded but didn't seem encouraged by this. Vincent supposed he had that effect on people.  
  
"Night at the bar?" The owner asked.  
  
The ex-Turk wondered mildly which clue he had picked up on first. The overly friendly manner Cloud was currently exuding, the sharp smell of liquor, the over-exaggerated movements, the glazed look in the eyes, or perhaps it was the 5-note gil stuck still stuck in the waistband of Cloud's pants? With nary a grin Vincent scooped a coin out of his pocket and, with a movement so fast it escaped the eye, flicked it into the far corner of the foyer. Both Barson and Cloud craned their necks at the sound of the 'chink'. Vincent casually plucked the note from Cloud's pants and tucked it unobtrusively into the sword holster.  
  
Both men looked back at Vincent. The gunman shrugged.  
  
"Well," Barson said, eyeing the corner where the coin had landed with distrust, "see that you get yourself into bed." "It's only a single bed," he added, looking Vincent up and down.  
  
Chaos gave a rather lewd snicker and Vincent fought to keep the color from rising in his cheeks. Cloud didn't seem to pick up on the insinuation.  
  
"I'm just making sure he gets to his room," the gunman clarified.  
  
Barson nodded at him, manner a bit less aggressive.  
  
"Third floor. You can take the lift if you don't feel like carrying him."  
  
Cloud straightened slightly. "I can do just fine on my own," he said slowly, carefully.  
  
Vincent clapped a hand on his shoulder again and steered him towards where Barson had indicated the lift to be.  
  
"Thank you," he said over his own shoulder.  
  
"Just keep him out of trouble. Guy looks like it just follows him around...."  
  
Vincent couldn't really argue with that.

-----------------------------------------

Once inside the lift Cloud stopped pretending he was capable of walking and slid into a half sitting position on the floor. Vincent eyed him with concern.  
  
"What happened to your leg?" he asked quietly as the lift started up.  
  
"Stupid snake..."  
  
"Snake?" A snake had done that?  
  
Cloud banged his back against the wall rather hard and stared up at the ceiling.  
  
"Th' jerk had to go an catch its attention. Took one of my Shiva spells and a lot of overtime. Stupid Zolom. Stupid Reno."  
  
The lift stopped with a jerk and the doors opened.  
  
Vincent wasn't sure if he was to actually believe that the Midgar Zolom had given Cloud such a hard time. Cloud _and _a Turk, though it seemed Cloud had taken the worst of the damage. With a frown he leaned down and hauled Cloud up off the floor.  
  
"Getting tired of doing this..." The blond said with feeling, but Vincent didn't know which he meant; being drunk or being half-carried. He set the smaller man down on the edge of the bed and went to the bathroom to fill a glass of water. When he came back Cloud was sitting upright and looked a bit more collected. The gloved hand was still pressed against his forehead however. Vincent handed him the water and stared down, uncertain what to say.  
  
Cloud sipped at it and then looked up at him with a small, tired smile on his face.  
  
"Feeling better?"  
  
"You know, you're the last person I expected to baby me."  
  
Vincent stared down at him, unreadable as usual. "I'm not here because I'm checking up on you."  
  
"Is that what they told you to say?"  
  
"I'll leave now if that's what you want."  
  
Cloud put his hand down and stared at the glass.  
  
"Then why _are_ you here Vincent?"  
  
"Here now, or here in Junon?"  
  
Cloud snorted. "You're something else. You know though...this is probably the longest conversation we've had in months. You've been MIA. Tifa was beginning to organize a search party."  
  
Vincent shrugged. "I have been working as a merchant guard. That's why I'm in Junon tonight. As you know, since ShinRa collapsed it's been more difficult to transport goods because there are no armed guards anymore and virutally no one manning the posts between towns. People have to hire bodyguards now to go on extended trips."  
  
Cloud nodded. "Yeah. Business is booming. Maybe too much. I hardly even have to leave Costa del Sol and there's always work to be had. Reeve needs to get organized."  
  
The gunman gave a rare smile. "Then we'd be out of business."  
  
"Yeah, I guess you're right. So anyway, about tonight, do me a favor and not mention it."  
  
There was no response.  
  
"I mean it," Cloud said. "Ever."  
  
"If that's what you want."  
  
"I want." Cloud agreed and then groaned as he had the sudden fun experience of what resembled an ice cream headache.  
  
"Shall I leave you to yourself?"  
  
"Yeah, yeah," Cloud chattered. Vincent turned to leave but found his cape was holding him back as the end was held in a gloved hand.

"Wait a sec Vincent. Before you head off to places unknown again don't leave without calling one of us. There's something stirring and I don't know what it is yet, but we might need you. Don't disappear."  
  
Vincent gave him a short nod. Cloud didn't seem finished yet though he gave another pitiful moan and hung his head between his knees. His voice was muffled but the words came out clear enough.  
  
"I mean it and not just because we might need your help later on. You're missed Valentine. Don't blow off another barbeque or Yuffie'll come after you herself."  
  
Vincent's expression was hidden by his hair but he gave another nod.  
  
"And thanks," Cloud said.  
  
"For what?"  
  
He got a rueful smile for that.  
  
"Thanks for not leaving me to that pack of wolves in there."  
  
The next words were said with care as if they hadn't really been a part of his vocabulary before.  
  
"Anything for a friend."

And then he left, thinking fleetingly that the signs were good and AVALANCHE's leader was becoming himself again.

------------------------------------------------------  
  
**End Note:** There's bound to be tons of weird grammatical shite going on in here so apologies and I will get to them. I was just impatient to get the thing up b/c A: It's late and I'm tired and B: It's been a long time coming. So, anyway, hope this satisfied some and holds the rest of you for the next bit. Ciao till then. -Moira 06/01/04


	11. The Open Door

**Note from the Author:** I'll tell you right now that I put some serious research into the hangover bit for this chapter. I feel like my inner ear has left the stage and little people keep pushing furniture around behind my eyeballs. I had an egg for breakfast and wish I didn't. I'm huddled with my coffee and crazily pinging thoughts behind a hastily erected barricade of shades to keep out the light. My liver is screaming.

Enjoy.

Also: Thank you so much for commenting even though this story seemed dead. It really encourages me and makes me (yes MAKES me) write more.

**Katie:** Thank you for catching that. I've meant it to be the Buster sword and I kept writing Ultima. I'll fix that.

**Fuzzy Pumpkin**: Hope you like the new chapter. It's my goal to drag other people into insomniac-like procrastination.

**Pekkle**: They do rant a bit (sorry) and much appreciation for the constructive criticism. I'll be sure to avoid "&" and just swear a lot, as Reno is wont to do anyway. I will also be mindful of "Pheros" and not Phero. Thanks for sticking with it.

I would, as always, like to thank everyone, and as I said before, I can't just let it sit forever. It will be updated. Like now.

>

Chapter 10: The Open Door

>

It wasn't really anything he could put a claw on. This night, like the last, he just couldn't sleep and the restlessness that had invaded his light slumber made him get up and climb the spiral rock stairs to the roof of the adobe house.

Reposing himself on the cool rock Red XII considered the bright stars overhead and gave a puzzled chuff. He could not see anything amiss, could not sense with any great certainty that something was wrong and yet, he had a great feeling of anticipation. It made the adrenaline flow and he felt powerful. Stronger than in the last days of the conflict where he and the other AVALANCHE members had been pitted against Sephiroth and JENOVA.

Perhaps it is the warrior calling in my lineage crying out for those past battles, he thought. At the moment there was no fight to be had in Cosmo Canyon (unless one counted the odd, unreasonable monster) and he had spent the majority of the past year in peaceful study with the old stargazer. He liked the quiet, preferred it really, but one did miss the excitement of combat.

Tonight though he felt like a different beast. The strange emotion pulsed through his veins and he wondered if he was really suited to this life. Some people, some creatures, were born to do battle. If even he, Nanaki, who had yearned for years to spend his time in thoughtful contemplation about the greater mysteries of life rather than fleeing mad scientists and megalomaniacs, was getting restive, what of the other members of AVALANCHE? He could not imagine Yuffie Kisagari settling down or Cloud Strife to take up a day job that didn't include putting his life on the line. Barret and Cid were older and had other things to return to. Tifa seemed content to run her bar in Costa del Sol and as for Vincent Valentine...perhaps he too was getting restless. Cait Sith was simply Cait Sith.

He had not actually seen the others since early summer when they had met in Costa del Sol via Tifa's invite. He remembered the relaxation in everyone's eyes that spoke volumes of the relief they felt from being together again. It was hard not to. They had all lived together, fought together, nearly died together for a long time. In his mind they were family and being apart was the anomaly, not the norm. Maybe he would invite them all to Cosmo Canyon for week. That might shed him of his recent agitation.

He also remembered with some trepidation though that the last barbeque had not all been as happy as it seemed. There had been something, something not explicitly spoken of, which had made some of the smiles seem a bit forced. No one would speak about whatever the problem was but Nanaki could tell something was amiss. Whatever it had been though, it was between Cloud, Tifa and Cid. He'd gotten nothing but assurances from Tifa that everything was fine but neither Cloud nor Cid would answer questions directly.

The blond swordsman had worn his leathers and full bracers on both arms that day despite the heat.

"Just precautions," he had said, but his scent was sharp and strained. There had been something like distress in it too but Nanaki did not read minds or presume to tell others out loud that he thought they were both lying and in pain somehow. It was a personal matter obviously and he would not act until he thought he was needed.

When tentatively put forward to Cid, the pilot had chewed the end of his cigar and looked more furious than Nanaki had seen him in months but again, nothing.

He _would_ call for a gathering he thought. At the very least it would give him an opportunity to assess the others' health and put his worries at rest. It might even answer his own sleeplessness. Sleeplessness that felt brought on by a silent pull, a calling. But to what?

>

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>

The next morning Cloud woke up sore and with a mouth that tasted like he'd been kissing Pheros. There was a headache to contend with as well but it was only to be expected after a night of drinking with a Turk.

Shedding the clothes he had neglected to remove after collapsing into bed, he padded over to the shower and let the falling water massage his throbbing skull. It poured in soothing rivulets through his hair and ran hot down the back. The boneless relaxation that alcohol induced had long since passed and all the aches and pains from the day before came calling. With set teeth he forced the damaged leg to flex, stretching it back and forth till it moved normally and he was able to bend it more easily. Most of the marks and bruising he had been grimly pleased to note were fading fast and he thought one more solid night of sleep would erase them completely. Gods he wanted to get back to Costa del Sol so he could do just that.

Toweling off he faced the mirror and considered a shave he didn't really need (he'd gone weeks before with only a hint of fuzz to show for it). He stared hard at his reflection. It had been six years now. His jaw was sharper he thought. The eyes were sharper too, not like the flat blue things that had looked back at him from the polished metal of a steel door.

Ah…again.

He remembered details like that sometimes. Small things that returned to him from recesses of his swiss-cheese brain. He chewed on his thumbnail and had to smile a bit. It was like being a TV with crappy reception. Sometimes it ran the usual shite but every now and then, a commercial break. Kinda funny if you didn't look too closely.

At least, he thought, there was no part of his face now that could be mistaken for a _boy_. A few years might even have him looking his age.

The hot air from the shower began re-steaming up the portion of the mirror he had wiped clean and with a finger he traced the outline of his head, dotted two eyes, then hesitated at the mouth. He flashed over the current business and began smudging a down-turned line. Then, he thought suddenly, and quite randomly, about the time in the swamp when Reno had been tangled up in the mud with his black chocobo Sylth. The line of the mouth jerked up so sharply on the other side that it almost intersected the outline of the head itself. What he had now was something that looked like a pineapple on fire with eyes and mad expression. He felt silly but didn't wipe it off the mirror. Instead he gave a small snort and left, leaving the door open.

The caricature began dripping slightly as the air cooled and there was a change so small and barely noticeable that had Cloud reentered at that moment he might have missed it. The down-turned side of the mouth was now curled up slightly. And, as the whole picture began to evaporate, a hastily drawn handlebar mustache appeared then faded moments later with the rest.

Back in the main room Cloud dried off and ran a hand through his hair a couple of times. The requisite grooming complete, he changed back into the only spare outfit he had, those from the night before. They reeked of smoke but there was nothing to do about it now. Into his pack went the UPS, the shredded clothes, and the disorganized pile of gil (source unknown to his hazy recollection) he'd found all over the floor. Time to meet up.

>

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

>

The morning dawned a few streets over just as painfully for the other half of the unlikely duo. Reno emerged from the depths of a dark room with all the tell-tale signs of someone both still drunk and completely unrested.

Stepping out into the moderately populated street without giving into the desire to curl up in a dark space under the bed he had just left took more energy than fighting the Zolom. His body ached, his head hummed, and his mouth was dry. It had been a strange night to be sure, one that came back to him punctuated with little voices that he couldn't seem to banish from his ears. He hadn't had anything remotely like sleep to smooth away the little aches and pains and even now his brain fairly vibrated with a high pitched whine that set his teeth on edge. He couldn't say anything for certain about last night save that he was sure his headache had something to do with Cloud Strife.

Rolling out his shoulders and slinging the pack over one, he stalked away from his seedy lodgings and aimed a course for the docks. He was due to meet Strife just under the hour which was still some time away. He hadn't intended to be early (that punctual shit was for Elena, not him) but since sleep had escaped him he had nothing else to do with the time.

People and characterless buildings passed like ghosts in Reno's peripheral vision. If it wasn't attacking him he had no energy to spare for it. He strode along with only his thoughts for company and those carrouseled around two points. One; What to do when he found what he was looking for? His name on a list wasn't much to go on by itself but when he found more information, what then? What if Hojo had been secretly lacing his meals with arsenic or something? There had been no lost love between the two ever since Reno had added some 'spice' of his own to the scientists' coffee and caused the man to slur his orders, which had set Reno into a giggling fit that just grew until all of ShinRa rang with his laughter. Come to think of it, hadn't Hojo started referring to him as number 098 after that incident...?

The man had no sense of humor so Reno could imagine several endings, each gorier than the last. Was he just going to keel over and die? Maybe he'd been taking something that would make his hair fall out and the Turks would have two bald members. (he unconsciously yanked on his ponytail at the thought) At any rate the worst case scenario had him being unable to do anything at all about it. Hojo's experiments were nasty and if his involvement had anything to do with the procedure he'd read about then chances were he wouldn't be getting out of this clean. If he lived (or continued living, he amended) then it wouldn't be scot-free. If there was one thing he knew with certainty about Hojo it was that the man had been categorically insane...and methodical. There would be results of something, some_when_.

Thought two, an unhappy follow-up to thought one, was that the more he knew about Cloud Strife, the less he understood him. That seemed counterintuitive somehow but he couldn't deny that for all their 'chats' things only got murkier and were beginning to border on freakish. Whether it was professional duty or just idle curiosity at this point he couldn't shake the feeling that they were stuck in this together and logic followed that if Reeve had set him upon this errand with Mr. Personality then it meant that their respective goals were linked. He would have to take this up with _el Presidente_ when he returned. The man was an awful lot like Tseng in some respects, but this was cruel and unusual punishment for service done well. Or, done well enough.

With an unerring sense of direction Reno navigated the back streets of Junon on autopilot while his brain juggled "what-ifs". He was therefore caught completely unaware when suddenly he lost his balance and nearly kissed the graffiti splattered wall to one side of the alley. He glanced back, sunglasses sliding down to perch on the end of his nose. There was something attached to his foot, holding him back. Namely, a street man he had thought was a pile of old clothes when he had passed, smelling of fish and suddenly exhibiting new found life.

Reno pushed off the wall and got his balance back but the man stayed fastened to his leg. The hand that held him rooted was incongruously old compared to the face. The skin, while layered with green and black unmentionables, pulled tight over knobby bones and the forehead was wrinkle free under bushy eyebrows. He might have been Reno's age for all the Turk could tell.

"Um...what the hell do you think you're doin'?"

The street man's head drooped down now, chin pillowed on the patchy fabric of his shirt. He made no sign that he was listening at all now. Lank hair obscured the face, but Reno could hear hoarse breathing and thought he caught a hint of brown through the black curtain.

The street man tugged on the ankle, sliding the boot part way off. Reno scowled.

"What do you want? My foot lodged in your esophagus? Let go!"

Dirt and black tar was imbedded beneath the nails that encircled the neck of the boot. A shudder suddenly took the man by force, and the grip grew tight enough to make Reno wince.

"Hey," the Turk said cautiously, not sure why he didn't just kick the vagrant square in the face instead of standing on one foot like a stork.

"I…," the street man suddenly gasped. "I…uurrrraggh!"

And then everything got weird.

"Reno!" The man hissed, but the voice didn't go with the face at all.

The Turk felt something crawl along the edge of his senses and the hairs on the back of his neck stood to attention. The street man's eyes rolled in his head like two mad pinballs until only the whites shown all around. He blinked once and the dark brown orbs came back into focus. He blinked again and they turned cobalt blue. Reno gaped open mouthed at the spectacle. The blue eyes stared hard into his astonished face and the grip tightened even more.

"Reno!" He hissed again. "It's me. Rufus."

Reno stared back, his confusion melting into revulsion. He seemed to be fixating on the drool still escaping through gaps in the street man's broken teeth. If he understood or had heard he gave no sign. The street man tried again, this time giving Reno's leg a little shake to punctuate his words.

"Reno, this is Rufus. Do you understand me?"

"You're…," the Turk began.

The street man nodded encouragement, bits of fuzz and paper escaping as the beard flapped against his chin.

"You're...," he repeated.

The shaggy head nodded vigorously.

"You're…a loony." Reno affirmed.

The street man groaned in frustration and brought his dirty hands to his face. They pulled hard at the scraggly hair.

"I"

"AM"

"NOT"

"A"

"LOONEY! YOU STUPID TURK! I am Rufus Shinra and I order you to address me with respect!"

A bit of drool slid from the corner of the bearded mouth. Reno raised one fire-red brow and grinned.

"You know, you do look like him a bit Pops. You even have his," Reno bent his wrist and wagged it about, "ways."

The cobalt blue eyes hardened on the Turk's face and the headache was back ten times stronger than before. Reno winced and rubbed one temple while edging away from the huddled figure.

"Look old man, I don't have any scraps to give you and I've places to go, people to make disappear, so have yourself a pleasant day and go find someone else to bother. Especially blond guys. Go bother any blond guys with big swords and pissy attitudes you can find."

"I'm not looking for a handout you alcoholic, impertinent-wait a second. Are you talking about...about...about...bout...t..t..tt.ttttttt..."

The street man broke off suddenly caught in a stutter that ended with his teeth chattering furiously. His eyes began to dart everywhere once again and Reno, sensing a meltdown, did the practical thing and buggered off.

He skipped down the rest of the alley, took a hard left and jogged a couple of blocks before he caught himself and did a little shake of his own. Goose pimples had broken out all over his arms and he rubbed them as he walked. Maybe Nibleheim wasn't the center of weirdness. Perhaps that title had grown legs and now followed Reno Delaney wherever he went. But wasn't he also going back to Nibleheim...?

>>>>>>>>>>>>>

A short time later Reno found himself by the water and in sight of the port. He paused there at the entrance to the docks, something in the warm salt air smoothing the fatigue from his face. The faint bruising underneath his eyes evaporated beneath the morning sun and he inhaled deeply, willing away the remains of the headache. Gripping the flaking handrail he gazed out over the shipyard. The docks, ever the heart of Junon, were fairly choked with all manner of ships from fishing cutters to pleasure steamers to ShinRa gunners. The latter of course weren't in use nor had been since Meteor. With the portholes empty and decks vacant they had a closed, listless look about them. Reno wondered briefly what Reeve had in mind for them figuring war wasn't it. Yet.

The tall ShinRa cruisers were parked side by side with less imposing boats and just past a pair of fin-sailed Wutai junks he spied the Costa del Sol ferry. He was a few minutes early yet so he lit a cigarette and strolled over to the ticket counter to browse the pricelist.

He hedged there, not really reading the numbers, his mood shadowed by the encounter with the bum. He'd had his share of weird experiences, plenty definitely more bizarre than this, but it left him in a queer frame of mind. Ever since the night before he'd been having a ringing headache that didn't seem related to obnoxious amounts of alcohol because it was simply still _there_. Hangovers were difficult to hold onto (he tried very hard indeed to hold onto them) but the gap left in their wake was usually the only sure bet. This thing didn't hurt per say, save for the occasional twinge, but it was very distracting. When he'd run into the filthy bagger everything had gone quiet for a second then flared like a match had been put out on his eye. Then it was gone again into background noise. Dead unsettling if you asked him, not to mention all that nonsense about being Rufus. That old bum was probably an ex-employee with a bitter streak and weird sense of humor. Reno blew a wobbly smoke ring and wondered if he should go back and drop the poor wanker a gil or two. He could empathize with that kind of feeling. ShinRa inspired all sorts of wackos. He considered himself among them.

Speaking of weirdos…

Light bag and limp still in attendance, Cloud Strife was making his way up the docks. He looked washed but also unrested, and Reno was secretly delighted to note the squinting of the eyes against the too bright morning light. Mornings after were always more tolerable in like company. He shaded his own sensitive eyes and leaned insolently against the ticket counter. A small old woman examining the schedule sniffed at him and left, her blue-gray hair bun flouncing.

"'Morning," he said cheerfully as the swordsman approached, Cloud's obvious pain buoying his spirits greatly.

"It _is_ morning isn't it?" The other said in a dry voice.

Reno peered down at him. Sarcasm already? Maybe it was the blond hair but Strife was suddenly reminding him sharply of Elena on certain mornings-after ShinRa events when her normal professional, serious and to the point speech devolved into something much more fun. At least until her first Bloody Mary. Then she just glared.

By way of response he inhaled a lung full of smoke and lovingly released it through bared teeth and flared nostrils. Rude had often remarked that it made him appear like a devil with a snoot full of brimstone. He particularly enjoyed affecting that kind of look during interrogations. In the Turks there was no 'good' cop 'bad' cop routine. He played 'scary' and Rude was a kind of intimidating backdrop. Rude did his thing, which was usually standing there and looking sinister while Reno made sure to make his eyes go white around the edges to convey that "human, the other white meat" kind of mentality. He wasn't sure why he got the urge to do it now except that Cloud in this vulnerable state was too good to pass up. As it were AVALANCHE's boss-man was looking up at him with a kind of narrow-eyed grimace.

There was a long pause as both men stared at each other, Reno's manic grin fading into a kind of injured pout. Cloud remained impassive, his haggard face dark about the eyes. He broke eye contact first, seemingly bored with the exchange.

"So, when's the ship leave?"

Reno glanced back at the schedule. "In 10. We just have to get tickets."

Cloud set his bag down and on toes, leaned onto the sill of the ticket counter. He opened his mouth but oddly Reno's voice came out.

"Costa del Sol! Two tickets, business class!"

"50 gil!" The clerk shouted back.

Reno looked expectantly at the swordsman. So did the clerk.

Cloud snapped his jaw shut and glared at the Turk from out of the corner of his eye.

"What makes you think I'm paying for you? And we don't need business class. What's wrong with-"

"Ch-" Reno said, gesturing for Cloud to come closer.

"What?"

"Ch-ch-ch!" The red head spat out rapid fire under his breath, hand still beckoning.

Cloud exchanged a raised eyebrow with the clerk and leaned into Reno's space.

The Turk whispered into his ear almost conspiratorially.

"In business class the drinks are free."

"What? Why the hell do we need more to-"

Reno touched the black shades perched atop the fringe of red bangs and a reflected shaft of light shone right into Cloud's wide aquamarine stare. The smaller man gasped in pain and his gloved hands flew to defend against any further damage. He made a kind of hissing moan as he rocked on his feet.

Reno straightened up and made a V of victory to the clerk.

"Ag," Cloud said.

"I'll take that as a yes."

The fingers parted slightly and a single eye squinted out.

"Still doesn't mean I'm paying for you."

Reno clicked his tongue.

"There's the matter of your half of the bill for last night."

Cloud pursed his lips and made a sort of shrugging gesture.

"I don't recall not paying." I don't recall not _not_ paying either he added mentally.

Reno leaned down and smiled sweetly. "Jaz wants a word with you, if I got the message right. She remembers even if you don't."

"When did you say that boat leaves?"

>

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>

The ocean was an unmarred expanse of blue that divided the continents and made for swift passage between Junon and Costa del Sol. Up on the second deck, business class as it were, the two men lounged in chairs a good distance from one another but still within sight. Neither felt disposed to talking and each sat in silence with only a mumbled thanks or grunt to the bearers that brought them drinks.

Cloud leaned back on his deck chair and stared up into the cloudless sky without focus. He steadfastly ignored any clear thought that tried to break through the mindless zen of his rest and simply 'felt' the world around him in no more complicated terms than hot and cool.

When some time had passed and his drink was empty he scooted off the chair, hand brushing unconsciously over the Buster sword, and wandered over to the edge of the deck. He stood at the railing for some time and let the salt air blow over the myriad of tiny cuts and scratches that remained from the day's before events. They stung a bit still but were fading fast. Tomorrow they wouldn't even be a memory. He ran a gloved finger over what had just half a day ago been in need of stitches and urged his leg to come along as quickly. Soon he'd be back among things familiar to him only in nightmares and for that he would need every bit of strength. Strength enough to face the ghosts typed out in the graying print of the report given to him by Reeve, strength enough to go back into that mansion, and strength enough to come back out whatever he found there.

>

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>

Costa del Sol is everything Junon is not. For one there are no cracked shells of once imposing defenses breaking the costal view. There are no buildings taller than four stories. There is definite lack of all things metal and rusting. There are also no, as the residents stress quite vocally, ShinRa outposts. Even the bums seem happy in their healthy looking tanned little bodies.

Nestled against the edge of a dense palm grove the Costa del Sol port is more like a parking area than a trade spot. Wutai junks, skivs from the Bone village and a few yachts are the usual customers. With the exception of the Costa del Sol ferry the only cargo-sized ships that run along the inner coast are from Gongaga and they deal in the happy commodity of grain, which inevitably makes its way more often into beer than bread.

As a rule Costa del Sol residents sport brightly printed shirts and shorts. Their smiles are as white as the beach sands and, as part of a vast (and quite calculated) marketing scheme, many of the women wear flowers and know your name before you step off the boat. For most people, this combined with the alluring scenery and welcoming lanterns of the local establishments, causes a very warm and inviting atmosphere. For Reno Delaney, city-dweller and favorer of the color black, it caused a combination of sunburn and outright Agoraphobia.

As they stepped from the ferry with the throng of other passengers Reno and Cloud quickly threaded their way through the crowd and ducked the garlands of flowers lobbed at their heads. To avoid attention in general they agreed, with sidelong looks at the packed causeway, to cross the beach and make their way into town by less populated routes.

"So," Reno ventured, the first word spoken in over four hours.

Cloud raised an eyebrow as he trudged through the sand dunes but said nothing.

"So, are you going...home first?"

"If you mean to Tifa's bar, then yes."

"Well then, I'll come along."

Cloud's answering look was puzzled, amused, and had the open question of, _Are you mad?_ all in one.

"It's not like she'll try to kill me."

"..."

"I mean, we're not friends or anything, but at the end of that whole mess things fell on the side of us not being, well, enemies at least."

"Speak for yourself."

"You AVALANCHE guys sure see things in black and white don't you?" Reno murmured under his breath.

Cloud shot him a quick look then gave the ground ahead of him a lot of attention.

They reached the main avenue of the town and via Cloud's direction and he guided them swiftly to a two story establishment of white stucco and green ivy. They paused outside the painted red door and Reno considered it gravely as a man might study a particularly ominous looking cave. Cloud looked at him, took a deep breath and said (as though he might regret it later),

"Come inside."

He knocked and they waited.

A moment later the door opened and some long strands of dark hair escaped before the tanned face of Tifa Lockheart peered out. Seeing who had come she cried and threw open the door the rest of the way. Out she bounded and had him in a tight embrace before the swordsman could even raise his arms. Reno looked on with no small jealousy as Cloud's face was lost somewhere between Tifa's shirt collar and bare naval.

She looked up suddenly, aware that he was not alone. Her red eyes narrowed.

"Reno," she hissed. Reno opened his mouth to say something and found her boot lodged in it a moment later. He could do little but fall over and pass out for a few inky seconds.

When he came to again he could hear the sound of their arguing.

"-ith me."

"You never said that-"

"I just told you, it was a surprise to me too. Now I've invited him in. Can you just not kill him for a couple of hours?"

"Ng," Reno said distinctly through a copiously bleeding nose.

They looked down at him. He looked up.

"Sorry," Cloud said.

"Not sorry," Tifa said, "but come in, I guess."

Cloud bent down and hauled him up. Reno for his part simply wiped the blood away with his shirt cuff and tried to look more dignified than he felt.

Tifa frowned at him and Cloud looked from one to another as not sure of what side to join. He put his hand in the small of Tifa's back and guided her gently back into the bar. He beckoned to Reno and disappeared into the building. The Turk followed more slowly, pressing one hand to his aching nose. He stopped in the doorway with a sudden revelation.

"Pink!" He declared. "Pink with lace on the edges!"

The door crashed back with such force that he was thrown to nearly the same spot as before. He lay spread eagle on the ground once more.

"Tifa!" Cloud cried.

"Sorry!" she screamed at the now closed door.

"Not sorry..." Reno gurgled and then passed out again.

>

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

>

-Ho ho ho. Some strange developments in this one and they're going to be moving along a lot quicker now that I've got most of their inner monologues out of the way. (yes, I am very guilty of too much of that) As for the usual request, please, please leave at least your email so I can either thank you and know you've gotten it, or add you to the mailing list if you like. I do update infrequently, but this story is not dead. So, let me know what you think and any weirdness or inconsistencies do point them out. It helps me greatly. Thanks.

-Moira 02/01/05


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